


Acquainted (dylmas au)

by coupe_de_foudre



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Coming Out, Cute, F/M, M/M, Pet Names, angsty? maybe, artist dylan, basically just a cute fic i wrote based off a one-shot i did previously, coz people asked for it to be extended, don't worry thomas and kaya are just friends, famous actor thomas, famous kaya, jealous! thomas, non famous tyler, or at least dylan isn't, painting together, same for dylan and tyler, ugh i'm awful at tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-08 12:10:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 35,813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15930164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coupe_de_foudre/pseuds/coupe_de_foudre
Summary: Taking a deep breath and relaxing, Thomas looked over at the picture one last time."Oh Dylan?" he questioned casually. He stretched as he did so, his right arm moving behind his head. Then, without breaking from his calm tone, he moved his gaze to meet the woman's. "Yeah, he's mine."***Or, in other words, the story of how aspiring artist Dylan O'Brien fell (quite literally) into the arms of famous actor, Thomas Brodie-Sangster.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I originally begun posting this on Wattpad back in April but I thought, since I've been uploading on here quite a lot recently, that I should post it here too.
> 
> If you like it, please do leave a comment :)
> 
> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

“Calling all passengers to New York, the plane is now boarding.”

The feminine voice emerged loudly from the speakers dotted around the building. 

Thomas sighed in relief and grabbing his satchel (which was currently stuffed to the maximum, full of a few necessities for the flight and little bits that wouldn’t fit in his suitcase). Standing from the uncomfortable metal seat, Thomas stretched his lanky legs outwards before heading in the direction of the plane that would take him home.

It had been a long few months filming for the latest film that he was starring in. Of course, Thomas loved acting, he always would, but it dragged on for so long sometimes and all he wanted to do was go home and relax.

In a month or two, there would be interviews with the cast, but until then Thomas had no plans other than to catch up on sleep and maybe begin decorating his new apartment. He’d recently moved from England, away from all of his family and most of his friends, to bustling New York. Mainly for the better acting opportunities but he’d also wanted a change of scenery.

Nearing the end of the long tunnel-like corridor, Thomas looked out to what he expected was his plane. Sure enough, as he rounded the last corner, he found himself drawing closer and closer to the large vehicle until he was practically stood inside it.

A queue of boarding passengers had formed, the air hostesses checking people’s seat tickets and directing them in the correct way. Thomas smiled to the woman checking his ticket, trying his best to hide the sleep-deprivation that was slowly taking over his body, nodding as she pointed out his seat.

Luckily, since Thomas’ seat was by the aisle, the other two passengers sat beside him were already on board. Shoving his weighty satchel onto the rack above his head, Thomas slid into his designated seat and settled down.

It didn’t take long for the plane to start its engine up, the air hostesses running through their safety demonstration, and before Thomas knew it they were up in the air. Clouds drifted by the small windows, looking quite like cotton wool.

Knowing that it was a long flight, Thomas allowed himself to get comfortable. He leant his head on the backrest, stretching his legs out as far as he could in the small space given, and closed his eyes.

Although Thomas was an actor, a well-known one for that matter, he preferred to act as regular as possible whenever not ‘on the job’. Therefore, he’d chosen to fly on a normal plane with regular citizens rather than with the posh, snobby 1st class crowd.

Taking a deep and slow breath, Thomas felt his mind numb as he slipped peacefully into a deep sleep.

An hour or two must have passed by the time Thomas eventually woke up. Most of the other passengers were a lot quieter now, either sleeping too or just simply settling into the flight. The two people sat beside him were an older couple, both of whom were asleep just as Thomas had been.

Checking out of the window, Thomas saw that it was still light. The sky was an aqua blue, almost completely covered by white clouds. It looked nothing like the usual dreary grey of New York’s sky.

The thought of New York reminded Thomas of his apartment. It was in a wealthy area of the city, and although it was on the large side it was quite homely. Maybe that was because of Thomas’ excessive amount of decorative cushions and paintings that he’d hung on the once bare walls. 

He couldn’t wait to return home and start working on painting those bland walls. Beige was such a cold, boring colour – in Thomas’ opinion. He wanted each room to be bright and vibrant, emitting a personality through colour.

A loud rumble from Thomas’ stomach brought him out of his thoughts of home, and he quickly glance at the couple sat beside him before standing up and pulling his bag down. He’d packed some snacks in preparation of the long flight.

Pulling out a bag of crisps and a bottle of water, Thomas shoved his bag back onto the rack and quietly began to eat his food. He was just enjoying the sensation of eating after not having anything but coffee in the past couple hours, when he felt a tickling feeling on the back of his neck – almost as though someone was watching him.

Turning his head to look behind him, Thomas caught sight of a young man with dark brown hair looking directly towards him. When Thomas’ eyes met the other man’s, the stranger turned away blushing. Thomas, being used to this sort of attention, assumed the guy recognised him from one of his roles and simply went back to eating his crisps.

But after another few minutes, he felt the tension of being watched again. Yet again, it was the brunet. However, this time the man didn’t turn away; instead he met Thomas’ gaze and held it.

The brunet smiled, his lips pulling back to reveal rows of pearly white teeth. But as quickly as the smile began, it disappeared, and Thomas found himself feeling somewhat disappointed. Shaking the feeling away though, Thomas gave the man a quick once-over.

He was wearing tight fitted jeans (Thomas could guarantee that half-way through this flight they’d be uncomfortable), scruffy white trainers, and a black batman t-shirt. There was a leather jacket slung on the back of the man’s seat, and Thomas could only assume that it was his.

Moving to the guy’s face, Thomas noted the small amount of new stubble visible from his seat across the aisle. He also appeared to have deep brown eyes, framed by bushy but well-shaped eyebrows and hidden behind a pair of bold black-framed glasses. It was then that Thomas noticed how one eyebrow was quirked upwards in a curious expression, the man now realising that Thomas was (quite obviously) checking him out. Embarrassed, Thomas tuned away and pretended to be interested in a mark on the seat in front of him. Though, his mind was still on the unnamed passenger.

All-in-all, the man was quite attractive. Okay, no, he was very attractive. There was no doubt about it.

Unfortunately, the end of this flight will lead to Thomas going to his apartment and the stranger travelling to who-knows-where, and neither will cross paths again, most likely. Why should they? It’s not like they were destined to meet like some ridiculous fairy-tale or anything like that.

And so, with an unusual sad heaviness in his heart, Thomas tried to fall back asleep. But the odd burning feel of eyes still remained on the back of his neck, sending prickles down his spine.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's funny sometimes, how fate works. One day, you could very well fall onto your soulmate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm going to aim to publish 2 chapters a day. There's currently 20 chapters already written for this (no more than 30 overall planned to be written) so hopefully by the time all 20 current chapters are published, I will have finished this fic.
> 
> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

By the time Thomas’ flight landed he was craving fresh air (although, he probably wouldn’t get lots of that in New York). Tea too; he really craved a cup of tea, warm and comforting. Preferably in his favourite mug – a black one with white cat whiskers – but since his apartment was another 30 minute drive away he’d have to settle for one from an airport café.

Tired grumbles surrounded Thomas as he merged with the other passengers, exiting the plane and walking the short distance to the passport control desk. There, he pulled out his passport and handed it to the man sat behind the computer – who checked it before allowing him through to the next section of the airport. 

It was quite the hassle working his way through the crowds of passengers, all of which were desperately eager to return to their homes or hotels or wherever they were staying. It was now the middle of the night and everyone was exhausted. The length of the flight across the states only added to the tiredness.

Thomas dragged his feet across the large area, tiled floors squeaking underneath his shoes, his satchel now sitting heavily on his shoulder. God, he wished he’d packed less stuff.

Eventually, he neared the huge conveyor belt rotating with suitcases of every shape, size and colour. People crowded around it, all desperately reaching for their luggage as soon as they saw it. Thomas couldn’t blame him, he wanted to get his case and leave as soon as possible, but the sheer size of the crowd of people swarmed around the thing caused him to hesitate.

Maybe he could just wait a while? His case would just rotate continuously round anyway.

One by one, the crowd of people slowly began to disperse as each person retrieved their luggage and sloped away. Thomas began to edge closer, his eyes scanning the line of cases in search of his own – a deep green one with a white stripe down the middle. 

For a while, he didn’t catch sight of it and began to worry that maybe the cases didn’t keep going round and round until collected. But then, just as he was contemplating whether or not to find a member of staff and ask for help, he spotted it. 

It was all the way on the other side.

Sighing and readjusting his satchel on his shoulder, Thomas started on his way closer to his case. The sooner he got it, the quicker he could leave. Luckily, there were barely any people left hanging around now.

With his eyes fixated on his continuously moving case, Thomas didn’t notice the person struggling just in front of him until it was too late.

There was a sudden surprised yelp and then someone was falling into Thomas, almost knocking the both of them straight to the tiled floor below. But Thomas reacted fast, despite his low amount of energy, and he somehow managed to catch the person in his arms. 

“Oh, God, thank you.” the person muttered seemingly distractedly as Thomas helped to steady them on their feet. 

As the person - a man with vaguely familiar brown hair - adjusted their glasses and straightened their clothes out, Thomas bent down to pull their case up back onto its wheels. It was a blue case, the colour of a sapphire, and Thomas couldn’t help but note the rainbow ribbon used to tie the label with the person’s details to the handle.

Thomas wanted to read the label, if only to know the person’s name, but he knew that would probably seem odd so he resisted. 

Making sure that the suitcase wasn’t going to fall over, Thomas looked back to the person that it belonged to. When Thomas’ eyes fell on the face of the person in front of him, however, he froze.

It was the guy from the plane – the one that had been staring. The attractive one.

Thomas had to admit, up close the man was even better looking. At that thought, Thomas mentally cursed himself (almost slapping himself in the face in embarrassment).  
“I-uh…sorry about that.” the man said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck.

Thomas felt his stomach flip at the sound of the man’s voice – deep and smooth with the slightest twinge of a New York accent.

Suddenly remembering that he should probably reply, Thomas shook his head and smiled at the man. “It’s alright, don’t worry about it.”

The man smiled shyly and nodded his head, his eyes looking anywhere but at Thomas. The tension could be felt a mile away.

Thomas sighed inaudibly. He wanted to get to know this man, at least his name anyway, but the conversation was clearly not going anywhere. Plastering on his infamous smirk, he said “I’m only gutted I missed my opportunity to use a cheesy pick-up line.”

There was no response at first, and Thomas panicked because ‘Oh God, Thomas this guy knows who you are and he probably thinks you’re straight so now you’ve just made yourself look like a total idiot.’

But then, much to Thomas’ relief, the man burst into a cute laugh, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners and lips turned upwards in a breath-taking smile. Thomas smiled too, thanking himself lucky that this guy got the joke. Sometimes, Thomas forgot that he was famous and had an image to uphold. An image that included being straight, as far as everyone is aware.

Not that Thomas was forced to remain closeted; it was just that the opportunity to reveal his sexuality had never arisen and so he didn’t see the point in changing what people thought. At the end of the day, the less people knew about his personal life, the better. 

As the man’s laughter subdued, he shook his head and looked up at Thomas, eyes shining behind the large lenses of his glasses. “Nice to meet you, I’m Dylan.”

Thomas smiled, taking the hand offered to him and shaking it. “Hello, Dylan. I’m Thomas.”

“Oh, I know.” Dylan said, before clapping a hand to his mouth, “Shit, sorry, didn’t mean to sound rude or weird. I just, I’ve seen you in a few movies and I just-”

Thomas cut his rambling off, holding up a finger. “Hey, it’s alright. Don’t worry about it, I don’t find it weird; comes with the job I guess.”

Dylan nodded, but still looked annoyed with himself. Thomas wanted nothing more than to erase the small frown etching on his face and replace it with that wonderful smile from before.

Dylan suddenly looked down at his watch, concentrating for a moment before sighing. “I should probably get going; my friend will be waiting and it’s pretty late.” he explained, gesturing with his hands as he spoke.

Thomas just nodded, watching as Dylan pulled the handle of his case up and wheeled it closer to him. He was about to say goodbye when Dylan spoke again.

“How about I take you out for a coffee? Y’know, as a thanks for…” he gestured between the luggage conveyor belt and his suitcase with a playful smile.

Thomas felt himself smiling towards Dylan and he nodded, “Yeah, sure, that sounds nice.”

“Alright then, it’s a date.” Dylan laughed, “I’ll give you my number and I’ll call you with a day because I am jet-lagged way too much right now and need sleep. Maybe then you'll get to use your cheesy pick-up lines."

Thomas got the impression that Dylan was flirting with him, but he tried to ignore it and play it off as a joke - as much as he wished it was true. He'd learnt not to take everything too seriously. Even so, he still felt himself getting flustered as he pulled his phone from his pocket.

Swapping phones, Thomas placed his number in Dylan’s contacts as Dylan did the same on his phone before handing them back. Thomas slid his phone into his jacket’s pocket as and Dylan put his in the back pocket of his jeans.

“Well...” Thomas said, “I’ll see you soon, I guess.”

Dylan nodded with a small smile before grabbing his suitcase by the handle and turning to walk away. As he was leaving, he called over his shoulder, “See you later, Tommy.”

The unexpected nickname warmed Thomas’ heart and he found himself once again smiling to nobody in particular as he walked towards his case that was conveniently passing nearby. Pulling the case onto the floor, he straightened it up before wheeling it behind him as he walked towards the direction of the exit, a cab waiting for him in the pick-up area outside.

He couldn’t be happier to finally arrive back home, dumping his bag, case, shoes and jacket by the front door and flopping ungracefully down onto the sofa in his living-room. The soft bounce of the coral blue cushioned seat embraced his body, impacting him from the fall, and he sighed in the relief of finally sitting down on a seat other than those uncomfortable plane seats. 

He was just about to drift into an undisturbed sleep when his phone let out a loud ping, the screen flashing up brightly and lighting up the dim room. Groaning, Thomas rolled onto his side to retrieve his phone from the coffee table and unlocked it, seeing that he had a new message.

It was from an unknown number.

He opened it immediately (knowing exactly who it was from) and instantly smiled, cheeks heating up despite the coldness of the temporarily abandoned apartment. Deciding not to reply, Thomas placed the phone back down onto the coffee table and nestled back into the cushions of the sofa, mind now obsessing over the simple message. 

‘Goodnight, Tommy :)’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please drop a comment below if you liked this chapter :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please leave a comment if you're enjoying the story so far :)
> 
> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

Thomas woke the next day with an ache in his neck. Damn, why did he sleep on the sofa?

Groaning and stretching out his limbs, Thomas sat up. He ran a hand tiredly through his knotted hair, yawning as he did so. His phone sat on the coffee table, and as he went to check it for messages he realised that it was out of charge. Sighing, Thomas stood from his sofa and trudged his way to his bedroom.

His bedroom was dark, the curtains still closed from when he’d left to film, and the air was cold and stale. Flicking on the light, he found a spare phone charger and plugged his phone in, placing it to rest on his bedside table. 

Deciding that he needed to freshen up from the long flight, Thomas grabbed a towel from his draws and headed to the bathroom across the hall. The water was warm and as Thomas stepped under the downpour he felt it wash away his stress and tension. Closing his eyes and tilting his head back, Thomas allowed the water to fall down his face, running both hands through his now wet hair.

Thomas didn’t rush, taking his time scrubbing every inch of his skin and thoroughly washing his hair. 

By the time he emerged from the now steaming bathroom, it was well past noon. Hanging his damp towel on the drying rack he had set up in his room, Thomas slipped on some comfortable joggers and a black t-shirt. Walking barefoot, enjoying the soft feeling of the still new carpet, Thomas checked is phone.

It was almost charged, maybe another half an hour or so left. 

With that in mind, Thomas headed towards his kitchen, grabbing a glass and filling it with water to drink whilst he thought about what to eat. Finally deciding to just have something small, Thomas rummaged through his cupboards to find a packet of ready salted crisps and grabbed a pack of Oreos he found too. He’d have to go grocery shopping soon; his fridge was empty because he didn’t want food going out of date whilst he was gone.

Taking his small amount of food with him, Thomas grabbed his suitcase (that he’d left in the hallway last night) and dragged it into his bedroom, where he proceeded to empty it of its contents. Shoving all clothes into a pile of dirty washing to be done later, Thomas placed all his other items in their original homes and put the empty case away in the back of his wardrobe. 

Exhausted, Thomas sat with his legs criss-crossed on his bed and opened his bag of crisps, leaning to unplug his phone and turn it back on.

Once his phone had loaded, the notifications started coming through. A few were mentions from news articles; others were just from the few apps that he had on his phone. But then he saw that he had a missed call.

There was no name for the contact, and for a moment Thomas was confused. But then he clicked on the number and a message from last night came up. A small smile creeped onto Thomas’ face as he reread the sweet text, before clicking on the unknown number and adding it to his contacts under the name ‘Dyl’.

Thomas then wondered why Dylan had called him. So, after he threw away his empty packet of crisps he got himself into a comfortable position on his bed and dialled the number. It rand for a few seconds before Dylan picked up.

“Hello?” his cute New-York accent rang down the phone.

Thomas bit his lip to control his smile before speaking, “Hey, Dyl. It’s me, Thomas.”

Dylan could be heard laughing. “I know it’s you, I texted you last night, remember?”

Thomas just groaned at his own awkwardness. 

“Doesn’t matter.” Dylan reassured, “What did you call me for?”

“You called me first. I was going to ask the same thing.”

There was a brief pause, followed by shuffling, before Dylan replied. “Oh, yeah, I almost forgot about that. Figured you must have been asleep, since your phone was off.”

“Yeah, the battery died last night.” Thomas said. “So, what did you want?”

“Oh, well I was gonna ask what your plans are for Saturday.” Dylan said, voice hesitant.

Thomas thought. Today was Thursday, that was only two days away. He’d only just got home so he didn’t have any plans for the near future. In fact, other than promo interviews in a few months, Thomas had nothing but decorating his apartment planned.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Oh, that’s great! I mean, well, if you still wanted to I thought that we could maybe go for that coffee? I know a great little coffee shop near mine where we could go and not be noticed. But, but don’t feel like you have to come. I mean, I know you might not actually want to an-”

“I’d love to.” Thomas cut Dylan’s nervous rant off. “Saturday sounds great. How about 11?”

“Oh, umm, sure. Yeah, yeah 11’s fine. Great. See you then!”

“See you then, Dyl.” Thomas smirked, putting the phone down. He now couldn’t wait until Saturday morning.

Whether it was Thomas’ body recovering from the flight, or the warm feeling in his chest, Thomas somehow fell back asleep for a good few hours, not waking up until the sun was down and the sky blanketed the city in a dark shadow.

The clock above his draws, opposite his bed, read that it was almost 9pm. With a low growl from his stomach, Thomas decided to make something to eat.

In his kitchen, Thomas managed to find enough pasta for one meal and a tin of chopped tomatoes. Blending in some mixed herbs, Thomas created a simple yet tasty pasta sauce and, once his pasta was cooked, her mixed it all together and poured it into a dish. 

Going into the living-room, Thomas flicked on the T.V. and grabbed the remote. He placed the warm bowl of pasta in his lap as he scanned through the channels to find something to watch. He eventually settled for an episode of The Big Bang Theory, and propping his feet on the coffee table he dug into his food.

He was starving.

An hour later, two episodes of The Big Band Theory watched, Thomas was sat with his legs tucked onto the sofa and a blanket thrown over him. For some reason, new apartments were always cold. 

Thomas wasn’t watching the T.V. anymore, but still left it on as background noise, because he was now on his phone texting Dylan back and forth. They were just sending silly texts, getting to know each other a bit, but nonetheless it made Thomas’ heart flutter. The more he got to know Dylan, the more he grew to like him.

So far, he’d learnt that Dylan was 26 – his birthday was August 26th. He had grown up in New York with his parents and sister. After graduating school, he’d moved with his best friend (a guy called Tyler) to LA but after a year of living there they both decided to come back. He now shared a two bedroom apartment with Tyler, just outside of the main city.

Likewise, Thomas had told Dylan about growing up in England with his family, how he’d gotten into acting and then a bit about his decision to move to New York. It was nice – getting to know somebody without worrying about the public finding out. He trusted Dylan, for reasons he was yet to discover, but he had a gut feeling that Dylan was an honest person.

By half eleven that night, Thomas sent Dylan a text saying that he was going to get some sleep and Dylan had said that they’d talk more tomorrow. He was right, as Thomas woke up Friday morning to a text from Dylan saying ‘Morning, sweetie ;)’ that made him chuckle aloud. It’d been the nickname Dylan had taken to calling Thomas because Thomas had argued that it was a stupid name.

Even so, it made Thomas smile stupidly like some lovesick teenager.

Quickly replying to Dylan, Thomas got himself out of bed and headed towards the kitchen – where he made a coffee (black) and poured some cereal out. He really needed to go shopping, he remembered as he sat and ate the cereal without any milk. 

Later that day, Thomas went to a nearby supermarket and bought all the essentials as well as some extra food for snacks. The whole time, he was messaging Dylan (who kept sending texts like, ‘Ooh, get some Twinkies. I love Twinkies’ and ‘I won’t ever come to your place if you don’t have Jello in your cupboards.’). 

Although Thomas responded to those messages with something along the lines of, ‘Shut up, you idiot’, he added the items to his basket anyway.

By the time Thomas was home and had unpacked his shopping, it was almost time for dinner. He sighed, exhausted, as he turned on the oven to preheat it. 

That night passed like the previous night, eating in front of the T.V. whilst texting Dylan. Thomas was surprised they still had anything to talk about; Dylan was one of those people that he could just talk about anything and nothing with.

As Thomas was falling asleep that night, he couldn’t help but smile at the thought of going for coffee with Dylan the next morning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

By half 10 the next morning, Thomas was up and dressed. He wore tight denim jeans and a beige cashmere jumper that was loose enough to drape around his skinny frame. His hair was particularly fluffy today, no matter how hard Thomas tried to flatten it down, so with reluctance he ran a hand through it one last time before leaving it alone. 

Throwing on his brown jacket that he loved so much, Thomas was almost ready to leave. He slipped his feet into a pair of black brogues and grabbed his house keys and phone before opening his front door and stepping out of his apartment. Locking the door behind him, Thomas made his way down the flights of stairs that lead out of the building, nerves rattling through his body.

Why was he even nervous? This wasn’t a date. Was it?

Outside, Thomas spotted Dylan already waiting for him – leant up against an old Jeep (blue a shade of the perfect summer’s day sky). He wore fitted jeans, a long sleeved top and a leather jacket that Thomas recognised as the one he’d worn on the plane. The moment that Dylan caught sight of Thomas, his lips broke out into a bright smile and he jumped up from his Jeep to greet the other. 

“I was starting to worry I had got the wrong address.” Dylan chuckled, awkwardly holding his hand out to Thomas. Thomas laughed, shaking Dylan’s hand.

“Nope, this is my home.” Thomas said, trying his best not to smile too much as Dylan opened the passenger door for him to climb into the vehicle.

As Thomas fastened his seatbelt, Dylan jogged round the front of the Jeep and slid into the driver’s side, turning the engine on and strapping himself in.

Dylan started up the Jeep, driving out into the road and in the opposite direction of the city centre. Thomas didn’t question it, trusting Dylan to know where he was going; he has lived here longer than Thomas after all.

“So,” Thomas started, running a hand over the dashboard in front of him, “nice Jeep you’ve got here. I gotta be honest though, I didn’t have you down as the sort to own one.”  
Dylan laughed, taking his eyes off of the road for a moment to look over at Thomas. “Yeah, well, I got it with my old man a couple years back. My pride and joy, right here – good old Roscoe.” Dylan patted his hand on the wheel as he spoke.

“Roscoe?” Thomas asked, smirking slightly.

Dylan shook his head with a chuckle. “Yeah, I don’t really know. I’d always said if I got a dog I’d name him Roscoe but I never did get a dog so…guess this was the next best thing.”

Thomas nodded, making sense of Dylan’s small explanation. They sat in quiet for a moment, Dylan turning on the radio and changing it to a specific channel, the volume low enough to just be background noise.

After a few minutes, Thomas spoke again. “So, where exactly are you taking me?”

“Ah, that’s a secret.” Dylan said, tapping the side of his nose.

Thomas quirked an eyebrow at Dylan, “Can’t I have a clue? Just a small one.”

“Hmm…okay, well it’s a little place that I go to often. Out of the way of most people so I thought it’d be ideal.”

Thomas huffed, but a smile was plastered to his face. “That wasn’t very helpful.”

“But it’s better than nothing.” Dylan sang in a teasing voice. Thomas just laughed and they changed the subject again.

Before long, they arrived outside a dainty coffee shop on the outskirts of New York. Dylan quickly parked the Jeep up and the two stepped outside, Thomas shivering at the harsh January winds.

“Come on.” Dylan said, gesturing Thomas towards the coffee shop when he noticed that he was shivering.

Letting Thomas through first, Dylan followed behind placing a hand on the small of Thomas’ back without realising as he lead the blond towards the counter.

There was another customer ordering so the two took the time to scan over the menu propped by the till. Dylan already knew what he was going to have but Thomas, who had never been here before, had no idea.

The menu was filled with an assortment of different drinks, warm or cold, sweet or bitter, flavoured or regular. Thomas couldn’t decide. 

“What are you having?” Thomas asked Dylan, leaning closer to the brunet.

“Mango and Strawberry tea.” 

Thomas hummed in thought, eyes dropping back down to the menu. He finally decided on a peppermint tea, hoping that it was nice.

“Can I get you anything?” the woman at the till asked, smile welcoming.

Dylan and Thomas stepped closer, Dylan greeting the woman before ordering their drinks and paying. Thomas went to refuse, offering out his own money, but Dylan just slapped his hand away without even looking in his direction.

Thomas huffed, shoving his money back into his pocket and vowing to pay next time they went out. 

If there was a next time, Thomas reminded himself.

It didn’t take long for their drinks to be made, and the two walked over to a secluded table in the far corner of the coffee shop and sat down. Thomas wrapped his hands instinctively around his mug, sighing as the heat thawed out his stiff fingers. 

The strong aroma of peppermint filled Thomas nose and he breathed it in deeply.

Dylan sat opposite Thomas at the small, round table, the table and chairs made out of a beech-coloured wood, smoothed and varnished. The coffee shop wasn’t very spacious but Thomas quite liked it; he saw why Dylan came here often. 

Framed paintings created by local artists decorated the baby blue walls, all mismatched and uncoordinated. That was the charm of this coffee shop, Thomas gathered. Mismatched and uncoordinated yet somehow, seemingly, organised. 

“So,” Dylan’s voice broke Thomas from his thoughts, “I assume you’ve just returned from shooting something? You seemed really tired when we met.”

Thomas nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I was out in California filming for The Fallen. I don’t know if you’ve heard of it-”

Dylan interrupted Thomas by waving a hand to stop him mid-sentence. “Of course I’ve heard of it! It’s like, the film everyone’s talking about.”

Thomas chuckled, slightly embarrassed. Sometimes he liked to pretend that he wasn’t so well-known by everyone and that the films he worked on weren’t always such great hits, if only to pretend that he was normal. Though, Thomas still loved his job and wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Yeah, aren’t you one of the lead characters in it? You and some British woman…what’s her name?”

“Kaya?” 

Dylan snapped his fingers, smiling. “That’s it!”

Thomas nodded, “Yeah, that’s right. Riko and Clara…” Thomas smiled slightly, recalling his and Kaya's characters. Kaya was, as Dylan had said, also from England. Her and Thomas had hit it off almost instantly and he now considered her a close friend. She had a boyfriend back in England who she'd been dating for quite some time now, and Thomas could tell from how she spoke about him that they were almost ready to settle down. He was excited for her.

Dylan smiled, leaning forward as he took a sip of his tea. “So, do I get to hear about this film or is that classified?”

Thomas looked away to stop himself from breaking into a huge smile at the adorable expression on Dylan’s face. Taking a sip from his drink, humming in approval of the taste, he nodded to Dylan. “I think I can trust you to keep it secret, right?”

And so they spent the next hour sat in the coffee shop talking about Thomas’ new role, Thomas spilling a few spoilers for Dylan but making sure not to ruin the whole film. Really, Thomas just loved watching Dylan get so excited over such a trivial thing to Thomas. Well, that and the way Dylan was smiling was causing Thomas’ stomach to twist in such a way that he truly believed that, in that moment, he’d do anything Dylan asked him to.

When their mugs were both empty and cold and they had spoken about as much as possible of the film, Dylan suggested that they left and Thomas couldn’t argue. Feeling carefree and just happy to be out, Thomas smiled despite the cold weather as they returned to Dylan’s Jeep – or Roscoe as Dylan called it.

Climbing into the vehicle, Thomas rubbed his arms as he tried to warm up. They’d only been out in the cold for a few minutes but he had always been sensitive to lower temperatures.

Dylan didn’t hesitate to turn the heating up as he ran the engine, letting the Jeep warm up before turning to Thomas.

“Hey, how about we go back to mine? Not to sound weird or creepy but I’m kind of enjoying this.” Dylan said, gesturing between the two of them.

Thomas agreed, wondering whether he should have asked Dylan to clarify what ‘this’ was but deciding against it in case it made things awkward. 

“I don’t live far from here, anyway.” Dylan explained as he drove the Jeep back onto the road and headed in the direction of his home. Thomas just sat in the passenger seat, anxious as to what lay ahead.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

The two men pulled up outside a standard block of apartments – basic brickwork with rows of identical white windows that went at least ten floors high. 

Dylan emerged from the driver’s side of the Jeep, digging around in his jean pocket for what Thomas could only assume was his apartment key. Together, they walked towards the front double doors that lead into a spacious lobby.

The floor was tiled, grimy from mud that was dragged in by the residents due to the rainy weather. Thomas shoes squeaked over them.

There was an old looking elevator directly in front of them, but a handwritten sign reading ‘Out of Order’ in red marker pen told Thomas that they’d be taking the concrete stairs to their right. An abandoned wheelchair hid underneath the first flight of stairs, the leather of the seat torn just enough to reveal the moulding padding foam.

Dylan blushed.

“It’s not much, really. A bit of a mess, if I’m honest, but it was all we could afford at the time.” Dylan said, averting Thomas’ gaze.

Thomas nodded his head, and then realised Dylan probably didn’t notice the small action. “Don’t worry about it. I actually think it’s quite cool. It’s – what’s the word – rustic?”  
Dylan scoffed, already beginning his ascend up to the next floor. Thomas followed close behind.

 

“I think you mean shabby.” Thomas smiled, rolling his eyes to Dylan’s back. “I saw that!” Dylan said. 

“What?” Thomas said, disbelievingly. “Saw what? And how? You’re not even facing me!”

“You rolled your eyes. I’m not stupid. I already know you too well and I’m more than aware that you’re a sarcastic little shit who rolls his eyes at everything he disagrees with.”  
Thomas shook his head, smile wider than ever. 

“Shut up.” he muttered, but Dylan just laughed and carried on to the next flight of stairs.

When they finally stopped at a floor, Dylan pulling open the heavy fire door that lead from the cold stairwell to the more homely-looking hallway, Thomas was breathing heavily. He bent forward, hands on his knees and head hung down as he caught his breath.

“Jesus, how many stairs?” he huffed in between deep breaths.

Dylan chuckled. “Enough. Six flights, 156 steps to be exact.”

Thomas widened his eyes, eventually straightening up again and looking at Dylan. “And you do that every day?”

Dylan nodded, a smirk on his face. “Yep, usually more than once. How else do you think I keep in such fine shape?”

Thomas just rolled his eyes once again (though this time more playfully) as Dylan posed in front of him. Lightly slapping the brunet on the arm, he spoke. “Come on, let’s just get to yours so I can sit down!”

Dylan did a stupid salute, laughing gleefully at Thomas exasperated expression before skipping down the carpeted hallway and stopping at the end door. 

Bronze plated numbers ‘91’ hung proudly on the wooden door. Thomas watched as Dylan unlocked it and pushed it open, gesturing for Thomas to walk in first. Dylan shut the door behind them as Thomas took in his new surroundings.

They were stood in a small area with just enough room to leave shoes and jackets, with a mirror hung by the door. There were two doors at the other side of the tiny hallway (if you could call it that), one shut whilst the other was open ajar. 

Dylan hung his leather jacket up on the hook beside the mirror, taking Thomas’ and hanging it too. They slipped off their shoes and Dylan padded closer to the open door. 

Thomas followed behind as Dylan walked into what was a large, open-plan room of a kitchen and living-room combined. One half of the room was carpeted with a plush red, a worn-down but comfortable sofa standing centre-stage in front of a widescreen TV and a shelf of DVD’s and games. A lonely lamp took up the corner opposite the TV, currently turned off. 

Then, adjoining to the living-room was the kitchen. The kitchen had the same coffee coloured walls as the living-room but the floor was instead, white lino tiles. It wasn’t a very big kitchen compared to the spacious living-room, but it was enough room for two or three people to work around easily. Counters lined the three walls, a refrigerator stood in the furthest corner. The sink sat under a small window looking out across a nearby field.

“It’s a nice place.” Thomas spoke, spinning in a circle to look at everything. “It just has a really lived in feel to it.”

He thought back to his own apartment, large and empty – bare walls and minimal furniture. He really should get to decorating soon.

Dylan smiled, thanking him. He was going to say something else when there was a crash followed by a loud string of curse words.

“Tyler?” Dylan called out, sliding skilfully across the lino floor of the kitchen with his socked feet (Thomas noticed a hole in the heel of his left sock). Opening the door by the counter in the kitchen, Dylan called out the name again.

Moments later, a man with messy brown hair and fresh stubble appeared from the other side of the door. Dylan stepped back to let him through.

The man, Thomas presumed he was Tyler, was holding a hammer gingerly. Thomas watched as he threw it into the draw under the sink and then swivelled round to face him and Dylan.

“Oh, hey, name’s Tyler.” He said, holding out his hand to Thomas. Then, he seemed to think twice about it before swapping hands. “Sorry, just dropped that stupid hammer on my thumb. Hurts like a bitch.”

Thomas couldn’t help but laugh, “Ouch, I’ve done that before. I’m surprised you didn’t throw the bloody thing out the window.”

“Oh, believe me, it took a lot of self-control.” Tyler smiled.

Thomas returned the smile, shaking Tyler’s uninjured hand. “I’m Thomas, nice to meet you.”

“Don’t worry, I already know who you are. Dylan’s mentioned you more than a fe-”

Dylan jumped forward, slapping Tyler rather roughly on the back and successfully stopping him mid-sentence. Ignoring the knowing smirk from both other men, Dylan pushed Tyler back through the door that he came from, “Okay, introductions over, I think that’s enough from you.”

Tyler just shook his head with a final laugh, disappearing into another room. From what Thomas could see – it was rather dark in this apartment without many windows – there was a further three more rooms past the door.

As Dylan turned back to Thomas, he smiled. “Cup of tea?”

“I’d love one, thanks.” Thomas grinned, taking up a position leaning against the counter near the kettle. As Dylan made the drinks, tea for Thomas and himself and a coffee for Tyler, the two talked a bit about moving to New York and the struggle of finding apartments that were actually suitable to live in. Thomas already felt at home here.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading, snowflakes <3
> 
> Also, a huge thank you to Katharina, your comment was so sweet!! (I'd tag you but I genuinely don't know how to XD).

The next day rolled around, and as Thomas slowly awakened to the mid-morning sun of that Sunday he couldn’t help but smile at the memory of the day before. He’d stayed at Dylan’s longer than expected, not leaving until late. At one point, Thomas had almost forgotten that he had his own apartment; he’d felt so welcomed at Dylan’s. 

Unfortunately, Thomas did have his own apartment and he’d returned late that Saturday night to empty rooms. He didn’t feel at home here. Not yet, anyway.

It took another ten minutes for Thomas to finally slip out from under the comforting warmth of his duvet, switching on his phone to see a few notifications and one new message. Unlocking his phone, he clicked on the unopened message.

‘Hey, thanks for today. I had a great time. Hopefully we can do it again soon?’

It was from Dylan.

Thomas bit back the smile on his lips as he quickly typed a reply.

‘No problem! I really enjoyed it. I’d love to meet up again.’

He then pocketed his phone, in his loose joggers that he’d apparently chosen to sleep in, before heading towards the kitchen, where he fixed himself a quick breakfast of granola and an apple.

As Thomas sat at the island counter in his kitchen, the pristine marbled countertop glistening under the morning sunrays, he thought about what he had planned to do over the next couple of weeks. 

Interviews for his latest movie didn’t start until the end of the month, and so he had enough time to at least begin decorating his apartment. 

He’d already bought most of the paint; it was sat waiting in his bedroom closet, gathering dust. He’d had his sister help him pick the colours, since he’d never decorated before and had no idea what was classed as ‘homely’ and what was classed as ‘disastrous’. 

But decorating took a lot of work, Thomas remembered his sister telling him. If he wanted to get it done quickly, he should probably have some help. And so, with that thought in mind, Thomas finished the last of his apple before grabbing his phone and typing out a quick message to the only person nearby.

‘Hi, I know this might seem random but would you like to help me decorate? Don’t worry if you’re busy, it was just an idea.’

Thomas re-read the message, debating whether it sounded too formal or odd before he just shook his head and sent it to Dylan. The next few minutes were agonising; Thomas’ eyes didn’t leave his phone’s screen as he awaited a reply. The whole time he was cursing himself for being so bad at texting. Dylan probably thought he was weird now, if he didn’t already think so.

Just then, a message pinged in, lighting up the screen.

‘That’s a great idea! Want me to come round now?’

Thomas smiled, relief flooding through him. 

‘Sure, see you in 10?’ Thomas sent his address along with the message, remembering that Dylan didn’t know which apartment he was in, even if he knew the building.

‘See you in 10 :)’

This time, Dylan’s reply was instant. 

Thomas jumped up, shoving his bowl by the sink to wash later and running to his bedroom. He threw on an old Guns ‘n’ Roses t-shirt that he found in the back of his wardrobe, deciding to leave his joggers on; there was no point dressing up in nice clothes if he was going to be painting.

Soon enough, the buzzer for the front door rang through Thomas’ apartment and he rushed out of his bedroom to the buzzer in the hallway to let Dylan up. Within minutes, Dylan was knocking on his door, and Thomas quickly ran his fingers through his hair before going to open it.

Dylan stood on the other side, breathless yet stunning. He smiled when he saw Thomas, that stupid, lop-sided grin that he seemed to do. The grin that made Thomas’ insides melt. 

“Hi,” Dylan said, voice barely a whisper as he tried to catch his breath.

“Did you take the stairs?” Thomas asked, bewildered. There was a perfectly good elevator – two, in fact.

Dylan nodded, and Thomas shook his head as he moved to the side to let him in.

“Why?”

Shrugging, Dylan replied, “I just thought it’d be quicker. Saves having to wait for it to come down.” he placed a carrier bag onto the counter in the kitchen that they’d walked into, “And I guess I’m just used to taking the stairs.”

Thomas laughed, coming round to the other side of the counter. Dylan was busy looking around the room in awe, after finally noticing his surroundings. 

Thomas went to grab the carrier bag, “What’s in here?”

At Thomas’ voice, Dylan seemed to snap out of his wonder, eyes darting back to the bag that Thomas was now pulling closer to himself. “Oh, just a few spare brushes and some old papers for the floor.”

That brought a grin to Thomas’ face; Dylan had actually gone to the effort of bringing some stuff that they might need. That meant that he cared, didn’t it?

“Good idea, I wouldn’t have even thought about paper on the floor.” Thomas admitted, “Can you tell that I’ve never done this before?”

Dylan laughed, “Well it’s a good job you asked me to help then!”

Nodding in agreement, Thomas emptied the contents of the bag and splayed them across the counter. 

“So, which room are we starting in?” Thomas froze. He hadn’t even thought about that! “I say that we start with the hallway, because it’s the first place that you see when you walk in and you want it to look inviting.”

“Right, yeah, sounds good.” Thomas said.

“You really haven’t done this before.” Dylan chuckled, shaking his head playfully as he went to grab some sheets of paper. It wasn’t normal white paper; it was a light grey colour and a lot thinner than usual sheets. He’d bought it in bulk, large A2 sheets.

Following Dylan back into the hallway, Thomas watched as the brunet laid the sheets of paper over the glossy, wooden floorboards and moved any spare shoes away from the wall.  
“Where’d you get the paper?” Thomas asked.

Dylan seemed to hesitate for a moment before looking up at Thomas from his crouched position on the floor. “I bought it to use for my artwork, rough drafts and sketches. It was cheap.”

Thomas paused. Dylan was an artist? He’d never mentioned it. “What sort of artwork do you do?” he said, leaning on the kitchen doorframe, his eyes not leaving Dylan’s form.  
“Just random drawings, really. Whatever comes to mind.” he shrugged, “I’ve done it since I was a kid.”

Thomas smiled at the mental image of a young Dylan huddled over a sketchbook, tongue sticking out as he drew. 

Dylan stood up then, wiping his hands on his black joggers. Thomas noticed he had an old, paint stained t-shirt on too – and he couldn’t help but appreciate the way the material clung to his shape (obviously he didn’t work out when he bought the top). 

“Do you have the paint?”

Thomas almost fell as he stood up, almost forgetting what they were doing because he’d been so enchanted by the beauty that stood before him. “Umm, yeah, yeah I’ll go get it.” Thomas said, voice dry.

He ran off to his bedroom, where he rummaged through the stack of large paint tins and pulled out the one he’d intended to use in the hallway. A dark, pigmented plum pink – a classic colour, bold and warm.

He carried the heavy tin out into the hallway, where Dylan was waiting with two large brushes, one smaller one and a roller and tray.  
“Here we go,” Thomas said, placing the tin on the floor.

“Nice colour.” Dylan observed as he bent down to open the tin, pouring some paint into the tray for the roller. Dylan then handed the tray and roller to Thomas. “You can start with just painting the main part of the wall and I’ll get the edges”

Thomas nodded, getting to work on painting over the boring beige with the new colour. It instantly changed the atmosphere of the place and Thomas couldn’t help but smile. Soon, this whole place would feel like home.

An hour later, the first section on the hallway was finished, the paint drying in record time. Thomas had to admire the accuracy of Dylan’s work along the edges, he hadn’t even needed masking tape; his steady hand had created a sharp line that didn’t run onto the border.

“It looks amazing.” Thomas said, placing the roller back into the tray and taking a step back. Dylan nodded in silent agreement. Dylan came to stand closer, and Thomas noticed the glint in his eyes as he smirked towards Thomas. “What?” he asked wearily.

Dylan’s smirk only grew wider. “I think we missed a spot.”

“Did we?” Thomas asked, eyes darting across the newly painted wall. “I don’t see an-”

As Thomas was looking away, Dylan took the opportunity to swipe the paint-covered brush across Thomas cheek. The cold paint caused Thomas to shiver, the thistles of the brush tickling over his skin. He whipped his head back in Dylan’s direction, catching the brunet holding the brush with a gleeful smile. Dylan broke into a fit of giggles at Thomas’ shocked expression.

“There,” Dylan choked out through laughs, “I got it for you.”

Thomas fought back the smile threatening to show as he tried to look as menacing as possible, which shouldn’t be hard considering he’s an actor, but somehow he found it incredibly difficult to be angry with Dylan.

Ducking down, Thomas picked up one of the unused brushes – one much larger than Dylan’s. He quickly dunked it into the tin of paint.

Dylan’s eyes grew wide as he saw Thomas stand up, holding the brush like a weapon. “No, no, no. Please don’t! Not my face!” Dylan squealed as he used his arms as a shield for his face, paint flicking off of his brush as he did so. 

The two battled with their brushes, paint dropping onto the sheets of paper below them. Thomas laughed triumphantly, fist bumping the air when he finally managed to drag his brush over Dylan’s nose, painting the tip a dark fuchsia.

Dylan groaned, looking down at his now pink nose. The brunet went crossed eyed, which caused another fit of laughter to emerge from Thomas’ mouth.  
“I can’t believe you’ve done this…” Dylan spoke, voice fake-appalled. Thomas shrugged with a grin.

“You started it.”

“Well…okay, yeah I guess I did.” Dylan chuckled, “Hey! I look like Rudolph now.”

Thomas chuckled, “A very flamboyant Rudolph, sure.”

“Shut up,” Dylan said, no malice in his words as he gently hit Thomas on the arm.

Thomas didn’t think before speaking, “Make me.” he challenged, a flirtatious smirk on his face.

Dylan stopped, mind seeming to be racing. He slowly looked up to meet Thomas’ gaze. 

Thomas was worried. Had he ruined it?

But then Dylan stepped closer, his toes almost touching Thomas’, and he leaned in. Thomas held his breath, their faces were now extremely close, so close that he swore Dylan could probably hear his heartbeat racing at an unnatural pace, thundering in his chest. 

A warm wave fell over Thomas as he felt Dylan’s breath hit his face, and he couldn’t stop the tingles that shot down his body.

Thomas’ gaze never left Dylan’s, staring into the unguarded portals to the beautiful being’s soul, a place that Thomas thought he could only ever wish to own. But here it was, standing so close.

Dylan’s hand began trailing up Thomas’ bare arm, up and up and up until it finally rested on Thomas’ cheek, cupping his face. It was then that Dylan leant impossibly closer, his painted nose almost brushing against Thomas’, lips tantalisingly close. Close, so close, yet not close enough.

Thomas wanted nothing more than to close the gap between them, to connect his lips to Dylan’s enticing ones, but he waited. Dylan seemed to be analysing every inch of his face, every hair, every mark, and every pore – storing it away in a part of his memory to keep forever. And Thomas couldn’t say he minded; he’d never before experienced such intense attention from one person.

Then, with no warning, Dylan closed his eyes, leaning in. Thomas followed suit.

Suddenly, everything went cold and Thomas snapped his eyes open just in time to witness Dylan pulling away and running his brush over Thomas’ fringe.

“Ha!” Dylan shouted, lips pulled into a wide grin. Thomas was shocked for a moment, but he soon recovered, blinking a few times to bring him back to reality. “I think I won.”

Thomas couldn’t argue with the proud smirk on Dylan’s face. Technically, Dylan had managed to make him shut up – he had to give him credit there. But, as Thomas stared at the celebrating Dylan in front of him, he swore that he’d felt something on his lips. Soft and gentle, barely there, but he’d felt it. Dylan had kissed him, he was sure of it!

But that was irrelevant now, as Dylan seemed to be pretending that nothing out of the ordinary had just taken place. So Thomas decided to drop it, but he still clung to the hope that had settled itself in his mind when Dylan had leaned in.

“I can’t believe you just painted my hair!” Thomas said, running into the bathroom across the hallway, where he looked in the mirror hanging over the small sink. His reflection showed him, as usual, but with an uneven pink streak running through his fringe that he’d not even flattened from his sleep.

Dylan joined him in the bathroom, glancing in the mirror and smirking at Thomas. “Payback’s a bitch.”

Thomas growled, a smirk on his lips as he turned to Dylan. He leant in, close enough to feel Dylan’s breath on his face again, eyes locked onto Dylan’s. “Oh, I’ll show you that payback’s a bitch.”

And with that, he left the bathroom, going to clean up the paint brushes that they’d abandoned on the paint-splattered paper. He couldn’t remove the smirk from his lips, even when Dylan finally came to help him tidy up, both acting like nothing had happened – though Thomas’ cheek and hair was as pink as Dylan’s nose.

Dylan had just started a game that he wouldn’t win.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

In a week’s time, Thomas’ apartment was starting to look much more ‘lived-in’. He and Dylan had finished painting the hallway that following Monday, and since then Dylan had been round every day to help with the other rooms. 

They’d spent every minute close together, painting and talking and laughing. By the end of the week, Thomas felt like he’d known Dylan his whole life.

The hallway had been finished with the remaining deep fuchsia, and the kitchen was done in a contrasting pastel teal. The living-room was now a coffee-coloured brown, with an Irish green feature wall with a brickwork fireplace. The mantelpiece overhanging the electric fire (one that had been designed to look like a traditional log fire) was empty, excluding a single photo frame displaying a picture of Thomas and Dylan posing in that exact spot. It was taken just after they’d finished painting that room (both covered in green and brown paint, Dylan cross-eyed with his tongue out and Thomas laughing at him, arm wrapped around his waist as he pulled him into the shot).

Although Thomas would never admit it aloud, that was his favourite picture ever taken. 

He had many other photos, some of him with old friends and others of him and his family, that he was going to place up on the mantelpiece once he found enough matching frames.

Only Thomas’ bedroom was left to be decorated. They would have done it earlier but they discovered that there wasn’t enough paint leftover to do the whole room. There was a small amount of each colour left from each room, and neither colour seemed to suit what Thomas wanted. 

Thomas wanted a plain but bold colour in his bedroom, something that would liven it up; the sun rarely reached through his window because of where it was positioned. He would only get a small slither of golden glow in the late afternoon, casting a soothing atmosphere into the room. 

Dylan had told him that he knew exactly what colour they needed, and with him being an artist, Thomas decided to trust him. Leaving the leftover paint as instructed by Dylan, Thomas grabbed his shoes, jacket and wallet and followed Dylan out of his apartment.

It was just after noon on a Friday, which meant that the roads weren’t quite busy but they didn’t have long until rush hour.

Thomas skipped down the stairs with Dylan, complaining about how they should have used the elevator like ‘normal people’, but it fell on deaf ears. Dylan just hummed happily to himself.

They reached the bottom floor, where Thomas pocketed his keys and they both headed towards Dylan’s blue Jeep (which had been parked in the resident’s car park, in Thomas’ reserved space). Thomas had told Dylan to use it since he didn’t have a car himself, and Dylan was round so often – he didn’t want Dylan paying parking fees when there was a perfectly good spot there.

The closest shop was only a five minute drive away (ten when you add in the traffic jams). Dylan and Thomas spent the time singing along to the songs playing on the radio – old classic rock songs. The windows were down slightly, letting in a brisk breeze that danced through their paint splattered hair.

Thomas’ fringe was still stained with bright pink though, luckily, it was fading.

Dylan pulled the Jeep up into the car park, choosing the closest free spot to the entrance. They hopped out of the vehicle and made their way into the shop.

For a Friday afternoon, the shop was quiet. That was fine; Thomas didn’t like large crowds.

Dylan scanned the signs hanging above each aisle, eyes lighting up when he saw the word ‘paint’ and grabbed Thomas’ hand, pulling the blonde across the shop.  
“C’mon, it’s over here!” Dylan said.

Thomas almost tripped when Dylan came to a sudden stop at the bottom of the aisle. Catching his breath, his eyes fell on the multiple shelves stocked with paint win after paint tin. There was every colour you could imagine. Blues, pinks, reds. Shades of purple and green and even special glitter paint.

Dylan began slowly walking down the aisle, his eyes sparkling up at the sight of the many colours before them. His head swiped side to side as he searched for the perfect colour.  
“What colour was it that you wanted?” Thomas asked Dylan, finding it ironic that the brunet man in front of him (that he’d known for less than a month) was choosing the colour for his bedroom.

“I’ll show you when I find it.” Dylan replied, eyes not even moving to Thomas’ direction.

Thomas huffed, rolling his eyes as he looked at a few tins of paint with the name ‘Peach Malibu’. It was of a similar shade to what they’d recently painted his bathroom. It reminded him of a family vacation when he was younger, his sister and he playing in the feather-soft sand of Benidorm whilst his parents sunbathed a few feet away on striped deckchairs.  
“Oh my gosh,” an excited voice came from his left, “you’re Thomas Brodie-Sangster!”

Thomas turned to see a young girl, maybe in her teen-years, with long brown hair that fell past her shoulders, a glittery lilac flower pin holding her fringe back. She was staring up at him in wonder, hands covering her mouth.

Putting on his best smile, Thomas stepped closer. “Yeah, that’s me. The one and only.” he joked. 

“Wow, sorry, I just really didn’t expect to see you here. Like, right here, in front of me!” the girl rambled, “I only came to get some wallpaper paste for my mum. I don’t know why I’m telling you that, you don’t care. I’m sorry.”

Thomas rested a hand on the shaking girl’s shoulder, “Hey, it’s okay. I’m getting paint for my new apartment.” 

There wasn’t really a need to tell a fan what he was doing here, but Thomas thought that it might ease her nerves. He also hated people idolising him when he was just a normal human being living a fairly normal life. 

The girl laughed.

“Ca-Can I take a picture with you?” she asked, hand shaking as she held out her phone, “Please? I’m such a big fan and I love your work.”

Thomas nodded, standing beside the girl and taking her phone. He bent down enough to be in the shot, his head just above hers, and smiled at the camera. 

As he pulled the phone away, straightening up, he caught sight of Dylan stood further down the aisle looking over at them moodily – a frown resting on his usually smiling face.  
Thomas instantly smirked, catching Dylan’s hard gaze before turning back to the girl. He handed her phone back to her, smiling at the case on it when he realised that it had one of his most famous quotes from a character written in cursive white italics.

“Thank you so much!” she said.

“No problem, love.” Thomas replied, giving the girl a quick hug. She squealed, blushing as she picked up the closest tin of wallpaper paste and rushed away.

Thomas waited a moment before turning back to face Dylan. Dylan stormed over carrying a tin of a seashell beige paint, frown still etched into his features. Thomas couldn’t help but notice how Dylan’s muscles enhanced under the strain of the weight and he had to dig his nails into the palm of his hand to drag his eyes away.

Looking up at Dylan’s face, taking note of how much his stubble had grown since they first met, Thomas smirked. “You’re not jealous of a fifteen year-old, are you?”  
Dylan scoffed, but Thomas could see the hints of embarrassment inking into his tanned skin. “No, why would I be?”

“No reason.” Thomas said, leaning in close to Dylan, “No reason at all.”

Dylan seemed to hold his breath as Thomas skimmed his hand teasingly over Dylan’s own, eyes locked to Thomas’ with such an intensity that Thomas felt like he could melt into a puddle right there, in the middle of the aisle.

It felt like Sunday all over again as Thomas inched closer to Dylan, breath hot on Dylan’s chilled skin. Dylan’s warm eyes kept flickering between Thomas’ eyes to his lips to his eyes, causing Thomas to smirk. Running the tip of his tongue teasingly across his bottom lip, Thomas stopped leaning closer.

“Here, let me take that for you.” he said, fingers wrapping around the handle of the paint tin that Dylan was still carrying. Dylan was in too much of a daze to refuse, the handle slipping from his grasp.

Thomas brought his free hand up, lightly hovering over Dylan’s arm. 

He leant in, pressing a chaste kiss to Dylan’s cheek, stubble running over his face. “Thanks, babe.” he laughed, smirk plastered to his lips as he pulled away and started walking down the aisle, heading for the closest empty till.

It took a moment for Dylan to catch up, eyes glazed over and face hot. Thomas met his accusing stare with an innocent smile, paying for the paint whilst Dylan waited at the end of the till.

“I hate you so much.” Dylan muttered under his breath as they walked out of the shop.

Thomas just laughed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he said, shoving the paint into the back of Dylan’s Jeep and letting himself into the passenger seat. The ride back to Thomas’ apartment was quieter than the ride there, an odd tension in the air. But neither Thomas nor Dylan felt uncomfortable.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

Dylan had told Thomas to wait to decorate his bedroom, claiming that he knew what he was doing and that Thomas should trust him. Thomas, of course, instantly did and so he didn’t make any attempt to start painting the last room of the apartment.

Interviews for the promotion of Thomas’ latest film appearance in The Fallen were due to start later the following week. 

As the end of January pulled near, the icy chill in the air still present but now accompanied by brighter sunshine, Thomas awaited his first interview. He wasn’t that keen on interviews, mainly because he often found it hard to express his thoughts, but also because it meant more publicity.

When he’d confided in Dylan about this, Dylan had reassured him that there was nothing to worry about; Thomas had done many interviews before (all of them great) and he was already classed as ‘famous’ so he might as well embrace the publicity. Thomas had disagreed at first, but the more he thought about it the more he realised that Dylan was right. 

The date for his first interview was revealed, Thomas’ agent had rung him in the middle of the night, interrupting on of his and Dylan’s usual movie nights. It was now habit for Dylan to visit Thomas’ almost every day, and he would usually stay late which meant they would order in takeaway and throw on a cheesy movie.

Dylan had been snuggled under Thomas’ favourite, fluffy orange blanket (bought for him by his sister on his 21st birthday), glasses sliding down his nose as he rested is chin on his knees, eyes fixated on the TV screen. Thomas sat down beside him, tucking his cold feet under the blanket.

“Who was that?” Dylan questioned, voice heavy with sleep – it was almost 11pm, Thomas realised as he checked his phone.

“Just my agent.” Thomas said, getting himself comfortable on the couch, “My first interview is in two days.”

Dylan dragged his attention from the movie, turning to observe Thomas’ face. “You’ll be alright.” he reassured.

Thomas smiled, “Yeah, I know, thanks. It’s just one interviewer and it won’t be released for another couple of days anyway. I prefer filmed interviews rather than live audience ones.”  
Dylan nodded, eyes flickering back to the TV. Thomas felt a warmth inside his chest watching the younger man, leaning his own head into the cushion behind him and losing himself back in the movie.

“Oh, can I have your keys that day?” Dylan suddenly broke the comfortable silence that had settled between the two.

Thomas frowned, on eyebrow quirking up. “Can I ask what for, exactly?”

He received a shrug in reply. “I want to start decorating your room, and it’s more of a surprise if you’re not here to see it whilst it’s unfinished. How long did you say the interview would take?”

“I don’t know, they’re usually a good couple of hours.” Thomas said, “I’ll just give you my spare key, that’ll be easier because I’ll have to leave early. Then you won’t need to get here at the crack of dawn, you can just come when you’re ready.”

Dylan nodded, eyes gleaming as he smiled at Thomas. “Sounds good.”

Two days later, Thomas was up and out of his apartment at the early hours of morning. The sharp chill in the air nipped at his skin as he walked the short distance from his building to the taxi cab waiting for him. 

Climbing into the back seat of the cab, Thomas greeted the driver before telling him the address of the studio. It was a thirty minute drive, so Thomas settled himself into the leather seat and gazed out of the window, watching the waking city come to life.

Once he arrived at the studio, he thanked the driver and left him a tip before entering the large building. The building was at least three stories high, with a mirrored glass exterior that reflected the early morning sun. 

The interior was mostly white – white walls, white tile floor, white lights – but the furniture consisted of an array of bright colours. Chairs in bold reds, vibrant greens and electric blues; white desks painted with contrasting coloured stripes; posters made up of large, eye-catching fonts. The floor had a multitude of colourful stickered footsteps, each different colour leading along a path to separate destinations. A sign to Thomas’ left informed him of which colour went where.

Deciding to just head to the front desk, Thomas smiled at the woman sat behind the computer, her face showing that she hadn’t received much sleep the night before.  
“Hi there, how can I help you?” she said, voice in an overly-cheery tone that didn’t match her tired appearance.

“Hi,” Thomas said, “I’m here for an interview. I think it was with a Mr Miller?”

The receptionist typed something quickly into her computer, looking back up with Thomas as she spoke, “Ah yes, you’re in the green room on the third floor. Just follow those orange footsteps and they’ll lead you in the right direction, and then take a left and you should see a small waiting area. They’re just finishing setting up the room.”

Thomas nodded, thanking her before following the trail of orange feet. It was a clever concept, really, he noted as he saw a sign stating ‘Third Floor (main office) – Orange’.  
The directions given to him lead him to a small section of the third floor where there was a row of lime green, leather chairs. A TV was hung on the wall to the right, showing a random film, but it was on silent with subtitles. There were a few magazines, all older ones from last month, and a couple of unfinished crossword puzzles, all stacked on a quaint table between two chairs.

The whole set-up reminded Thomas of the dentist that he used to visit as a child, only minus the distinct clinical stench.

Thomas had only been sat for a few minutes, staring absentmindedly at the silent movie, when a tall man, with a trimmed beard, gelled hair and glasses emerged from the room to the left. The man caught sight of Thomas and beamed, holding his hand out to shake as he approached him.

Thomas stood from his seat, returning the handshake.

“Hello, Thomas, it’s so great to meet you.” the man said with a thick accent.

Thomas smiled, eyes scanning over the man’s label pinned to his crisp, white shirt, which read ‘Mr Miller’.

“It’s very good to meet you too, Mr Miller.” Thomas spoke as the man gestured for him to follow him into the small room which he had just come from.  
“Please,” the man said, hand on his chest as he held the door open for Thomas, “call me Dean. Mr Miller is much too formal.”

The man, Dean, laughed and let the door fall shut behind him.

The room was small, two chairs facing each other, a camera positioned to capture the occupant of the furthest chair (which stood in front of a large version of a poster for The Fallen). Bright lights encircled the chairs, casting a white glow around the room.

Dean gestured towards the furthest chair, sitting in the other one as he did so. “Please, take a seat.” 

Meanwhile, Dylan was parking his Jeep in the car park space designated to Thomas. He pulled his denim jacket (with a wool lining) closer to his body as he stepped out into the late January air, shivering involuntarily.

Taking Thomas’ spare key from his jacket pocket, Dylan let himself into the building and began the climb up to his apartment. He hadn’t brought anything with him because he knew that it was all in the apartment; the paint was obviously already there, and Dylan had purposely left the few brushes and the roller there too.

As soon as he stepped into the apartment, which felt different because he knew that Thomas wasn’t here, he toed off his old sneakers and hung his jacket on the empty hook by the door. 

In the kitchen, he helped himself to his favourite mug that Thomas owned (a chipped, fading blue one) and made himself a steaming mug of coffee. Grabbing a biscuit from the cupboard, Dylan carried his coffee through to Thomas’ bedroom, where he placed the two on the chest of draws. Digging through the half-used tins of paint left in the closet, Dylan found the light beige that he and Thomas had bought the other week. He then pulled out the other colours: fuchsia, pale blue, forest green, and sunshine yellow.

The next few hours, whilst Thomas was participating in his interview, Dylan got to work painting the only undecorated room of Thomas’ apartment – his bedroom. Thomas had no idea what Dylan was planning, but Dylan was an artist so he trusted it to be amazing.

And it was. 

Dylan stood up, paint stained jeans and fingertips coated in colours of the rainbow. As he took in his work, a proud smile spread over his face.

Three out of four of the once plain walls were now soaked in a light coffee-coloured beige, making the room appear much larger now, despite the lack of light that got through the small window. Dylan knew, too, that come late afternoon – as the warm glow of the sunset shone in – the room would be cast in a golden light that reflects off of the walls.

The main masterpiece of the room however, was the wall in which Thomas’ plush double bed stood by. Or at least, where it will be standing once again as soon as Dylan moves all the furniture back to its original position. 

That single wall was now a combinations of explosive colour.

Dylan had taken each colour used to paint the other rooms of the apartment, including the beige from this room, and (using various sized brushes and different strokes) had splattered the wall in every colour. It was like a patchwork quilt, in some ways.

The colours complimented each other well, yet also contrasted greatly from each other, whilst the beige added a neutral tone and brought all the colours in with the rest of the room.

Hopefully, Thomas would like it.

It was another hour later, as Dylan sat at the island counter in the kitchen, fresh cup of coffee cupped in his paint-stained hands, that Thomas returned. He was exhausted, shrugging off his jacket and kicking his shoes back to their spot by the door.

In his white socks, he padded into the kitchen, a yawn escaping his mouth as he ran his fingertips through his fringe. 

“Tea?” Dylan asked, hopping from his stool and going towards the kettle, flicking the switch the re-boil the water already in there.

“Please,” Thomas mumbled, going to join Dylan by the kettle. He went to reach for a mug but Dylan pushed his hand away.

“Ah, no need. I already set it up.” he said, sheepish smile on his face, “I was expecting you back soon.”

Thomas smiled gratefully, turning so his back was against the counter. He relaxed, the tension slipping from his body as he allowed his eyes to slide closed.

“So,” Dylan started as the kettle whistled and he poured the water into Thomas’ mug, “how did it go?”

Thomas hummed, blinking his eyes open. They fell immediately on Dylan, watching the movement of his hands. “It went well. Or, at least, I hope so.”

“I’m sure it was great.” Dylan said, adding some semi-skimmed milk to Thomas’ tea before sliding the mug over to the blonde, who thanked him with a smile.

Thomas took a sip of his tea and hummed in approval. “You always manage to make a great cuppa.”

Dylan winked over at Thomas, shutting the fridge door after replacing the milk. “My mother taught me well, then?”

“Definitely.” Thomas said, nodding as he took another sip. “Did you finish the room?”

Dylan laughed, displaying his paint covered clothes, “Yeah, I sure did. I hope you like it!”

“How could I not?” Thomas began to walk towards his bedroom, holding his cup of tea close to his chest as the warmth thawed out his stiffness from the cold outside.

“Ooh, wait!” Dylan called out, jogging after him, holding his own half-drunk coffee.

Thomas waited outside the closed door of his bedroom, anxious to see the results of Dylan’s creativity. Dylan looked down, opening the door and letting Thomas through.

He had been right in thinking that the sunset would look great under these colours, Dylan noted as he stepped in after Thomas and took sight of the way the golden rays bounced off of the beige and enhanced the other colours.

Thomas was speechless, staring round him with wide eyes. Saying that he was impressed was an understatement. Dylan had really outdone himself.

“Wow…” he whispered, “This is amazing, Dyl! How did you manage it in such a short time?”

Dylan shrugged, fighting down a blush. “You were gone for quite a while, to be honest. It was a simple design really.”

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t have thought to do it.” Thomas said, shaking his head in wonder. 

“So, you like it then?”

Thomas met Dylan’s gaze, sensing his uncertainty. “I bloody love it.” he confirmed, bringing a wide smile onto Dylan’s face.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

“What can you tell us about the character? What’s he like?” the interviewer, who was off-screen, asked.

Thomas leant back in his chair, jumper riding up a little as he ran his hand through his golden locks. He stared up at the ceiling for a moment, lips parted, as he thought of an answer.

“Umm, he’s, he’s umm…he’s cheeky and kind of umm…he-he’s smiley and kind of flirty and he’s just coming in to puberty.” Thomas started, bringing his eyes down to meet the interviewer as he spoke. He stretched his arm back, rolling his shoulders before continuing. “He’s excitable but also kind of quite…kind of naïve about a lot of things, at the same time. He tries to be manly and pretend that he does know a lot of things so it creates a nice mixture of being a, uh, a man and a kid sort of thing, and I-I like that.”

Dylan was engrossed in the interview. Captured by Thomas’ beauty, his flawless skin and feather-soft hair. Every time Thomas stretched, Dylan’s breath got caught in his throat at the sight of pale skin under his jumper – where underneath, Dylan knew was a slim figure and toned chest. Which Dylan only knew from their days painting, when Thomas would reach up to the higher spots of the wall and Dylan would just so happen to be glancing over.

Then there was Thomas’ voice, which was just as deep and smooth as it always was. His accent was heavy but it suited him. It gave him a sophisticated ambience.

“Dylan, man, come on.” Tyler’s voice suddenly stuck through Dylan’s thoughts and Dylan didn’t have time to protest as his best friend slammed the lid of his laptop shut.

“What was that for?” he finally demanded after gaining his voice back.

“You’ve sat and watched this interview three times already. That’s without mentioning his other three interviews – which you’ve watched countless times as well.” Tyler didn’t sound accusing, more caring, as he stood by Dylan’s bed with a hand on his hip and a knowing look.

“What? I’m just being a supportive friend!” Dylan said, hands gesturing wildly.

Tyler hummed, “Dylan, you and I both know that you’re not doing this because you’re trying to be a supportive friend. A supportive friend doesn’t have an obsession with the person, nor do they blush whenever their name is mentioned. You’ve known Thomas just over a month now and already you practically live at his place! You’ve been there almost every day since that first time and you finished painting ages ago.”

Dylan sat on his bed, cross-legged, staring down at his hands in his lap. He knew that Tyler was right, but he was just afraid to admit it. Dylan knew that the moment he accepted his real feelings for Thomas, the more real they would become. Which meant that when Thomas eventually rejected him, it’d just hurt more.

“Look,” Tyler said, perching himself on the edge of Dylan’s bed and placing a comforting hand on his back, “I know why you’re holding back, and I understand, but Thomas clearly likes you. Maybe not in the same way, who knows? But he spends as much time with you as you spend with him, so that must count for something, right? You won’t know unless you make a move.”

With one last reassuring smile, Tyler left Dylan sat on his bed with his thoughts. Tyler was right, of course, and Dylan knew that. But he still wasn’t prepared to make a move. Not yet, anyway.

It was the next day (closer to night, really) that Thomas was knocking on Dylan’s front door.

Dylan rushed to open it, ignoring the pointed look from Tyler. Thomas stood with a wide smile on his face, holding up a pack of 6 beers. Dylan took note of his brown jacket, unbuttoned to reveal a beige cashmere jumper underneath. He also wore his signature black jeans, the ones which clung to his legs in a way that made Dylan’s heart stutter.

“Thought I’d bring these round, they’re wasted at mine.” Thomas said as he placed the beers on the floor, removing his jacket and shoes whilst Dylan locked to door behind him.  
Thomas had also brought a small backpack, black with a white stripe across the front.

“Tyler’s just ordering the pizzas,” Dylan said, pointing through to the kitchen as he and Thomas sat on the couch. “What movie did you think we should start with?”

Thomas shrugged, tucking his feet up under his legs as his eyes scanned over the shelf full of DVDs that Dylan and Tyler owned. “Whatever you choose, I’m not bothered.”

Dylan nodded, picking out the first instalment of the Star Wars series and placing it into the DVD player. Tyler came through, now carrying a blanket that Thomas presumed he’d taken form one of their bedrooms.

“Pizzas are ordered. Dylan said you liked BBQ chicken?”

Thomas smiled, eyes flicking quickly to Dylan (who was bent down, sorting out the TV). Of course Dylan would know his favourite pizza topping; they’d ordered it at his place countless times before. It still warmed his heart though.

“Yeah, thanks, Tyler.”

Tyler waved his hand in dismissal, smiling as he sat on the other side of the couch. 

They started the movie, all comfortably sat on the couch, waiting for their pizzas to be delivered. Once they were, they shared them out and Thomas handed a can of beer to Dylan and Tyler, and they enjoyed the rest of the movie.

The night had been suggested by Tyler. A movie night, all three of them. He’d claimed that he wanted to get to know Thomas better, which wasn’t a lie but also wasn’t the only reason behind the idea.

The rest of the night went more than well, the three of them laughing with each other and watching the whole Star Wars collection. When the last film came to an end, Tyler sloped off to his own room in a tired daze. 

Dylan and Thomas both stayed awake for a while longer, just sharing mindless conversation, until Dylan eventually said goodnight to Thomas and went off to sleep in his bed. Thomas camped out on the couch, blanket thrown over him and drifted into a peaceful slumber.

He was awoken later that morning, probably closer to noon – judging by the height of the sun. Dylan was in the kitchen, hair sticking up messily and no glasses on.  
“Mornin’” Dylan mumbled to Thomas, noticing that he was no longer asleep.

Thomas stretched his long limbs out, sighing as he heard a satisfying click. “Morning.”

“Tyler’s still asleep.” Dylan said as Thomas walked over to join him in the kitchen. It was hard for Dylan not to stare at how much fluffier Thomas’ hair looked after he woke up, or the natural beauty of the man in general because he was still gorgeous as ever. “Tea?”

“Please,” Thomas said, leaning against the counter and watching Dylan. Dylan felt his knees go weak at the rough sound of Thomas’ morning voice, deeper than usual and scratchy in a way that was heavenly.

Focusing on making the drinks and not pouring freshly boiled water over his hands, Dylan purposefully avoided Thomas’ gaze. It wasn’t until after he’d slid Thomas’ tea across the counter and begun frying some bacon and eggs that Thomas actually spoke again.

“I don’t know why, but there’s something really attractive about you standing in your boxer shorts and socks, cooking me breakfast.” Thomas said, standing just behind Dylan, his words falling over Dylan’s ears in a wave of hot air.

Dylan shivered.

Thomas himself was only wearing a loose white t-shirt and old joggers; he’d changed before falling asleep. But Dylan always slept in boxers. It was just habit, and so was walking around like that in the morning. He and Tyler had lived together long enough that it was just normal to them.

Thomas suddenly snaked his arms around Dylan’s waist, taking a step closer so that Dylan’s back was pressed into Thomas’ chest. He then rested his chin on Dylan’s bare shoulder, tilting his head slightly to face Dylan’s neck (the stubble of Dylan’s jaw rubbing over his cheek) and took a deep breath.

“Smells good.” Thomas mumbled, the words causing a vibration through Thomas’ chest. Dylan held his breath.

“The food?” he asked, voice cracking.

“Sure…” Thomas trailed off.

Dylan closed his eyes momentarily before re-opening them, Thomas still holding him close. Flipping the bacon over one last time, he picked up the plate that was beside the oven.  
As Dylan plated up their breakfast, Thomas reluctantly pulled himself away from him, but not before gently biting down on Dylan’s shoulder with a sly smile and a playful glint in his eyes. Dylan tried to ignore the tightness in his chest, handing Thomas his plate. Checking everything was turned off, Dylan joined Thomas on the couch, where they sat and ate their breakfast.

One thing was certain, Thomas was definitely more spontaneous and flirty in the morning. Not that Dylan could say he minded because he didn’t. He definitely didn’t.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

Another coffee ‘date’ (as Thomas had started calling them) had been arranged for later that week, in the early days of February.

When the arranged day arrived, a grey fog blanketing the sky and leaving everything below in a white, damp state, Thomas was anxious. He wasn’t sure if maybe he’d been a bit too forward the last time that he’d seen Dylan – the morning after their movie night with Tyler. Dylan hadn’t protested, but he hadn’t exactly said anything that would put Thomas’ thoughts to rest.

The few days after that morning, Thomas had been busy with interviews, resulting in him and Dylan only texting each other throughout the day rather than meeting up. There had been, however, a night when Dylan had rung Thomas and the two had spoken on the phone deep into the early hours of dawn, not hanging up until Thomas had accidently drifted into a short slumber, totally exhausted. 

Shrugging on his favourite brown jacket, Thomas grabbed his things (phone, wallet and keys) and left his apartment – which, now that he and Dylan had finished decorating, felt much more homely than before.

Dylan, as usual, was waiting for Thomas. Wearing a green khaki jacket, worn-out denim jeans and a band-tee (as well as his signature, bold-framed glasses), Dylan leant against his beloved Jeep. A smile overtook the brunet’s face as he caught sight of Thomas, and he immediately jumped up from his Jeep and opened the passenger door for Thomas – bouncing eagerly on the balls of his feet.

Thomas thanked Dylan, strapping himself in as Dylan walked around the front of the vehicle and slid into the driver’s seat, starting up the engine. Allowing a moment for the windows to clear, Dylan shivered and turned up the heat.

“Stupid winter.” he muttered, warming his cold-blue hands.

Thomas smiled fondly at him. Dylan looked much younger now, the stubble not as noticeable as it once was now that Dylan had shaved it off a few days ago. It had already started growing back, but much tamer now. It suited him, Thomas thought.

Once Dylan believed that the vehicle was warm enough, they set off down the roads to the coffee shop that they’d visited not too long ago – though, to Thomas, it felt like a lifetime ago. 

As expected, the coffee shop was almost empty of customers, a few people sitting at tables reading books or doing crosswords or typing into laptops. Nobody glanced up when the two entered, shaking off the cold.

They each ordered one of the many tropical-flavoured teas, and before Dylan could hand over the money to pay Thomas was sliding his own money across the counter to the barista.

“Hey, I was going to pay!” Dylan said, huffing.

“Well, you paid last time, I’m just returning the gesture.” Thomas shrugged, but Dylan wasn’t pleased. “Anyway, take it as a thank you for helping me decorate. Or even as repayment for the pizza the other night, since you refused to let me pay then.”

Dylan crossed his arms, but he couldn’t argue with Thomas’ logic. Huffing out a “Fine.” he shoved his money back into his pocket. Thomas found it more than slightly adorable.  
Their drinks didn’t take long to be made and they took them, thanking the barista, and headed straight for the same table in which they’d sat when they first came here.

They spent the next hour speaking about random topics that came to mind, simply enjoying being in each other’s presence. However, Thomas found himself (on more than one occasion) staring absentmindedly at Dylan’s lips, noting how they moved so fluently as Dylan spoke, how Dylan’s tongue would frequently swipe over the bottom lip leaving behind a glossy trail and how when Dylan was listening to Thomas speak he would subconsciously bite down onto his lip ever so gently.

It drove Thomas insane.

By the time they’d pulled up into the carpark outside Thomas’ building, taken the elevator to Thomas’ floor and stepped into Thomas’ apartment, the conversation between the two still hadn’t come to a stop. It was a wonder there was anything left in the world to talk about!

Thomas instantly, after abandoning his jacket and shoes by the door, headed into the kitchen to make them each another drink – because you can never drink too much tea or coffee.

Dylan followed after him, humming a popular new song that Thomas vaguely recognised.

Whilst Thomas had his back turned, Dylan began sliding across the tiled floor of the kitchen with his socked feet as an advantage, still humming. It wasn’t until Thomas heard Dylan begin to sing, voice quiet and nervous at first but then suddenly evolving into a deep, throaty tune, that he turned around to face the man now twirling on the spot. Thomas just watched, at first, in a stunned silence as he listened to Dylan singing.

Feeling the eyes burning on him, Dylan abruptly stopped moving and his voice faded into the quiet of the room. He blushed.

“You’re really good.” Thomas said, watching Dylan shift under his gaze.

“I’m not really.”

Thomas just scoffed, not believing Dylan for a second because he’d heard him singing and he was good. Amazing, in fact.

Instead of arguing, though, Thomas turned back to add the milk to their drinks. Dylan, in the meantime, had sat himself up on the counter besides him, legs swinging in the air.  
“Thanks,” he said as Thomas slid the coffee over to him. He didn’t pick it up though, instead seemingly preoccupied with watching Thomas take a sip of his tea.

Thomas noticed and looked up at him, a tiny height difference between them now with Dylan sat on the counter. “What’s on your mind?” he asked, placing his mug down and meeting Dylan’s gaze.

Dylan didn’t answer, just staring into Thomas’ eyes with curiosity and hesitation. He’d begun drumming him fingers on his thigh, and biting his lip anxiously.

“What?” Thomas pressed again, now feeling apprehensive himself. He nudged closer to Dylan, almost stood between his legs, and rested a hand over the constant tapping of Dylan’s. The touch instantly soothed Dylan and his hand stilled, warmth spreading through it as Thomas didn’t lift his own away and instead chose to leave it on Dylan’s.

“I-uh…” Dylan started, and Thomas didn’t miss the crack of his voice. Subtly, Thomas’ thumb began stroking lightly over Dylan’s hand – a caring gesture that warmed Dylan’s heart, helping him find the words to say. “I really like you.” Dylan eventually spurted out. 

Thomas paused, thumb stilling, and Dylan’s heart sank so low in his chest that he thought there was no hope of retrieving it. But then, Thomas smiled, a smile that reached into Dylan and grabbed his fallen heart, placing it back into its rightful position.

“I really like you too, Dyl.”

Dylan chuckled, breath shaking.

But then he panicked, and he realised that maybe Thomas had misunderstood what he meant. He hadn’t meant as a friend, that wasn’t what Dylan was trying to say, but maybe Thomas had thought that was what he meant.

Thomas didn’t miss the look of worry that etched itself into the features of the face in front of him. He brought a hand up to cup Dylan’s cheek, brushing back his fallen fringe and staring into the disbelieving eyes that were looking at him from behind glasses. “Dylan,” Thomas started, but he wasn’t sure where he was going with it and let his voice trail off into the silence.

His other hand moved to hold Dylan by the waist, thumb caressing small circles into the exposed slither of skin from where Dylan’s shirt had riled up. Dylan’s breath hitched, eyes trained on Thomas as he manoeuvred himself to stand between Dylan’s legs.

“I-” Dylan began, mouth dry, but he was cut off.

Thomas had leant forward and brushed their lips together in a soft, tentative kiss. Dylan tilted his head to meet Thomas’ lips at a more comfortable angle, bringing his arms around Thomas neck, hands dangling down and fingertips dancing over the back of Thomas’ neck. Thomas shuddered under the feeling.

Within a moment, they broke apart, lips so close and breath ghosting over their faces, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling. Their eyes met, unspoken words hovering between them.  
Thomas found himself stepping back, eyes drifting from Dylan’s and face heated – despite every fibre in his body wanting nothing more than to rush forwards and press his lips to Dylan’s again because, in all his life, he’d never felt the tingling warmth that shot through him in that short kiss. Never in his life had he ever felt so strongly for somebody. 

And that frightened Thomas, because up until know he’d found it easy to put his affections under ‘close friendship’ but now he was doubting himself.

The two finished their drinks in silence and Dylan left after conjuring up a feasible excuse for needed to get back to his place. Thomas had let him go without so much as a proper goodbye, and now he was left alone with his confused thoughts and feelings.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

“Thomas,” Michelle, Thomas agent spoke, “are you free to talk?”

Thomas looked down to where Dylan was resting his head on Thomas’ shoulder, eyes fixated on the TV screen in front of them. He looked peaceful, legs tucked under a blanket with his socked feet poking out of the other side.

“Yeah,” said Thomas, albeit reluctantly. He and Dylan were only watching some random talent show, after all; but it had been nice enjoying the night together.

Standing from his seat, gently nudging Dylan’s head off of him first, Thomas left the room so he wouldn’t be talking over the TV. Dylan watched him leave.

“How are you, Michelle?” Thomas asked as he finally sat down on a stool in his kitchen.

“I’m good. I hope you’re well too.”

“Yeah, I’ve never been better, thanks.” said Thomas, with a glance across the hallway to the living-room.

“Good, good. Anyway, I have great news!”

“You do?”

Michelle hummed in agreement, there was the faint sound of typing on a keyboard and then she spoke again. “I have an audition for you!”

Thomas beamed. “Already? Wow, you waste no time.”

With a laugh, Michelle said, “Well, with your talent people can’t wait to have you casted in their productions. Of course, nothing comes easy; the audition’s in a week so you’ll have to practice well.”

“That’s no problem. What’s the role?”

“Main lead, again, though this time it’s for a rom-com. It’s set in England too, so you’ll most likely be flying back out there to film – provided you get the part of course.” she added as an afterthought.

Thomas nodded throughout the rest of the explanation, it all sounded great. Twenty minutes later, Michelle emailed him the script for his audition along with key notes sent by the casting directors before wishing him good luck and ending the call. 

Thomas read through the script. It seemed easy enough, but already his nerves were building. Just because he was well-known in the industry didn’t mean he would get the job; a total newbie could be just as suited to the role. And besides, he had a feeling it’d also been offered to a few other familiar faces.

Nethertheless, Thomas tucked his phone back into his pocket and returned to the living-room, finding the TV was now showing an ad break.

Dylan looked up as Thomas slid back onto the couch, automatically laying his head on Thomas’ shoulder once again. “Who was that?” 

“Just my agent.” Thomas explained, voice low as he ran his fingers through Dylan’s tangled locks absentmindedly, “I’ve got an audition for another movie role next week.”

“Oh, really?” Dylan sounded excited.

Thomas smiled, “Yeah, some rom-com.”

Dylan wrapped Thomas in a quick hug, face hovering over Thomas’ for a moment before retreating again. Thomas felt a slight sinking feeling in his chest but pushed it away.

Ever since that kiss a few days ago, things had been different between them. There wasn’t any uncomfortableness, but rather there was more hesitance. Neither were sure whether it had changed anything between them and neither were brave enough to question it, so they remained silent.

They were still close.

“I’m sure you’ll do great!” Dylan stated, settling himself back into Thomas as the show started up again. Thomas smiled, staring down at the man beneath him with an overwhelming amount of affection.

Over the next week, Dylan practised Thomas’ lines with him. They spent every day together, repeatedly running through the few scenes picked out for auditioning – Dylan acting as any other role that appeared. 

Usually, Thomas found it awkward acting in front of his friends, but with Dylan it was different. Dylan wasn’t the type to judge, and if anything he was overly enthusiastic about the whole thing.

Thomas appreciated the good energy.

When the day for his audition arrived, Thomas felt like a ball of nerves. 

He sat, two hours before the audition, in his kitchen clutching a cup of tea with shaking hands. He was running through his lines, desperately trying not to forget them, in between sips of the comforting warm drink.

So engrossed in his thoughts, Thomas didn’t hear the front door open, nor did he hear the sound of shoes landing on the floor as they were kicked off or the soft footsteps that followed. He was unaware of another presence in the apartment until Dylan was stood right in front of him, sliding his phone and spare key onto the countertop.

“Hey,” he spoke, voice gentle, “how are you holding up?”

Thomas chuckled into his mug, watching the ripples it created on the surface of his tea. “I’ve definitely been better.”

There was a hand on his shoulder, and a reassuring squeeze, “I know, for a fact, that you’ll do absolutely brilliantly. You’re an amazing actor, and you know it! And even if you don’t end up getting the part – which, for the record, I doubt, you’ll still have tried your best.”

Thomas looked up at Dylan’s eyes, two melted pools of chocolate, and found nothing but sincerity. “Thanks, Dylan.” he muttered, forcing a smile onto his face. Dylan just laughed and went to make himself a coffee.

Dylan drove Thomas to his audition, parking the Jeep up in the Visitor’s car park and telling him that he’d wait here for him. Thomas had insisted that he didn’t need to; he could catch a taxi back, but Dylan flat-out refused.

“You’re too good for me.” Thomas said, smiling.

Dylan looked sad for a moment before chuckling nervously. “No, I’m not good enough for you.”

Thomas just scoffed, slapping him of the arm. “Shut up, I’m supposed to be the drama queen here not you.” 

Dylan couldn’t help but laugh at Thomas’ words, rubbing the spot where he’d been slapped with an obviously fake hurt expression. “Can’t believe you just abused me!”

Rolling his eyes, Thomas leant forward. 

“What are you going to do about it?” he asked, voice dropping an octave.

Dylan met his hard stare with a smirk. “Oh, I could do a lot about it.” he replied, leaning impossibly closer.

Thomas could smell the mint toothpaste on Dylan’s breath, from when he had brushed his teeth with the spare toothbrush now kept at Thomas’, claiming that he didn’t want coffee-breath for the rest of the day. His heart fluttered, but not because of his upcoming audition. This time, it was because of something much different.

“Unfortunately for you, I’m not going to do anything.” Dylan suddenly said in a chirpy voice.

Thomas almost growled, pulling back as Dylan did too, and unbuckled his seatbelt. “You tease, O’Brien.”

“You know you love it really.” Dylan smirked, watching Thomas climb out of the Jeep.

Thomas just rolled his eyes at the brunet, waving goodbye and shutting the door. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Good luck!” Dylan shouted, winding the window down to make sure Thomas would hear him. Thomas just stuck his middle finger up, not even looking back, and Dylan laughed.

Dylan stuck to his word, and an hour and a half later Thomas walked out of the building to find him sat in the Jeep listening to some terrible rock music. He knocked on the window, and Dylan unlocked the doors for him to get in, turning the music down.

“How did it go?” Dylan finally asked as they slipped into the traffic of the main road.

Thomas thought for a moment. “I think it went okay…”

“See, I told you. All that practice paid off.” 

Thomas smiled.

That night, the two shared a Chinese takeaway whilst watching a marathon of Family Guy episodes. They sat, huddled under the one blanket, with tubs of rice and chicken shared between them and a glass of red wine each, laughing at the stupid jokes made on the screen.

As usual lately, Dylan ended up staying over for the night – sleeping on the couch, with the blanket and Thomas’ spare pillow – whilst Thomas slept in his bed. And as Thomas fell asleep that night, he could barely remember the nerves that he’d felt earlier that day. In fact, he couldn’t think of an audition day that had ever felt more relaxed than this one – and he knew that was because of Dylan.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

Dylan skidded to a halt at his front door following the sound of a knock, already expecting Thomas soon anyway. He ripped open the door, revealing a pearly white smiling Thomas, dirty blonde hair looking windswept and rosy cheeks. 

“Hi,” Thomas greeted, stepping into Dylan’s apartment.

“How was your day?” Dylan asked, walking into the kitchen to retrieve his glass of water, Thomas following behind him and leaning on the counter.

“The usual, nothing interesting happened.” he said with a shrug. Dylan smiled.

“Well, at least you have something to do now then.” Tyler’s chirpy voice called out as the man stepped into the large open room, flopping on the couch.

Thomas agreed, joining Tyler at the other side of the room. Dylan finished his water, watching the two talking animatedly to each other about who-knows-what. They’d decided to have another pizza night.

At the sound of the buzzer ringing through the small flat, Dylan snapped out of his daze. He placed his glass back down onto the counter, waving Tyler down (who had begun to stand up) and headed to the door. On his way, he picked up his tatty old leather wallet.

Dylan didn’t bother to put on any shoes, hopping down the grimy looking steps to the ground floor in just his fading grey socks. He pulled enough money out of his wallet, ready to hand it to the delivery guy.

The mouth-watering smell of melted cheese and spices wafted through the air and Dylan closed his eyes momentarily to enjoy it. Finally reaching the ground floor, he found the delivery guy standing with three pizzas in his hands and, handing him the money, Dylan took the warm boxes from his arms. 

Thanking the man, Dylan practically sprinted back up the stairs to his apartment, kicking the door closed behind him and dropping the boxes onto the floor of the living-room. 

After handing out the pizzas to Tyler and Thomas, Dylan decided to sit on the floor so that everyone would have more room. Tyler started the movie, Dylan assumed he and Thomas had chosen one whilst he’d been getting the pizzas, Dylan settled himself on the floor with his back resting against Thomas’ legs.

They ate, sharing light conversation and watching the movie with mild interest. It was nice – peaceful - Dylan thought.

An hour passed, by which time the three had finished most of their pizzas and were now lounging comfortably in their seats (Dylan still had his head resting on Thomas’ legs). 

There was suddenly a loud buzz, followed by an intrusive tune. Dylan turned his head to see Thomas pulling his phone out from his pocket and stare at the lit up screen. His usually serene face contorted into confusion and Dylan watched in silence as Thomas swiped on his phone screen and held it up to his ear, carefully manoeuvring his long legs from under Dylan’s head and walking out of the room.

Tyler had paused the movie, Dylan noticed, as he met his best friends gaze. 

“What?” said Dylan.

Tyler quirked an eyebrow and shrugged, “Did I say anything?”

Dylan huffed, and swivelled round again so that his back was now resting on the couch. It was significantly less comfortable than Thomas’ legs.

Ten minutes passed, Thomas could be heard talking to someone on the phone but his words were muffled. Tyler kicked Dylan, causing him to turn back to his friend and question him once more.

“You should go see what’s happening.” Tyler stated matter-of-factly.

“Why does it have to be me? Why can’t you?”

Tyler just rolled his eyes, “Because, dummy, you’re different. And don’t bother giving me that look, I’ve already told you that I don’t care how you feel about him but I do want you to be happy. So go to him.”

Dylan went to argue but Tyler kicked him again, this time with a smirk on his face. Huffing, Dylan pushed himself up from the floor – his legs weak.

As Dylan stepped into the small hallway, Thomas had just hung up his phone. He wore a beaming smile, one that caused Dylan’s stomach to flip as it was suddenly directed towards Dylan.

Dylan sent Thomas a questioning look, unable to resist returning the smile, and stepped closer to him. 

“I got the part!” Thomas exclaimed, waving his hands excitedly. It took Dylan a moment to realise what Thomas was referring to, but as he remembered all the rehearsing for the audition a week or so ago, he broke out into a wide smile.

“That’s amazing!” Dylan said, practically squeaking, “I said you would.”

Maybe it was the heat of the small apartment. Maybe it was the relaxation of the night. Maybe it was the way that Thomas was now looking at Dylan, features soft and eyes warm. Dylan would never know, but what he did know was that in that moment there was only one thing that he wanted to do.

And, without thinking it through, Dylan grabbed hold of Thomas’ thin face and brought it down a few inches, smashing their lips together.

It was quick, nothing like their kiss before, but Dylan still felt the same overwhelming flood of emotions rush through his body. Thomas was warm, skin burning under Dylan’s fingertips, still gripped to the blonde’s face. His lips were smooth and tasted of cheese and sweet pineapple combined. Their faces were tilted at an awkward angle and Dylan could feel the ghostly dance of Thomas’ eyelashes flutter over his cheekbones, but he didn’t mind. 

He was kissing Thomas.

Wait…he was kissing Thomas.

The realisation of his actions finally sunk in and Dylan gasped, pulling back at such a frightening speed that his head began to spin.

Thomas took a while to realise that Dylan had stepped back, and when he did his face crumpled into a look of pure innocent confusion. That just confused Dylan more. Did Thomas want him to kiss him?

“’m sorry.” Dylan muttered, fingertips trailing over his lips where he could still feel Thomas’ warmth.

“Don’t be.”

Dylan’s head shot up, eyes meeting Thomas’ like too magnets, attracted to each other by means unexplainable, unable to pull away without force. He was going to question Thomas, ask him what he meant by that, but he didn’t get given the chance.

Thomas was already leaning in, breath tickling Dylan’s neck and sending a surge of heat through his body. Dylan allowed his eyes to flutter closed, sensing Thomas’ close presence through touch, his sensations only intensified without the ability of sight.

And then, like molten rock, their lips blending together merging into one and surrounded by an intense heat. Thomas’ hand slid up the side of Dylan’s neck, fingers pulling at the end of his growing hair, stopping as he cupped Dylan’s cheek. The way that Thomas held him made Dylan feel like he was some fragile item, something to be treasured. Something breakable.

Dylan was lost in the heat, lips moving with Thomas in a way that he had only ever imagined, breathing staggered and senses going wild. It was perfection, everything.  
Well, almost everything,

“Ew, in front of my pizza!” Tyler cried, and Dylan broke away from Thomas with a jolt to see Tyler standing in the doorway to the living-room with a slice of pizza in his hand.  
Thomas laughed, the vibration reaching Dylan due to how close they were stood. Dylan noticed, then, that Thomas was still holding him delicately. It warmed his chest and he couldn’t help but smile.

“Shut up.” he bit at Tyler, but there was nothing but content in his words.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

The next two days went by in a blur of sweet laughs, innocent kisses and a lot of teasing from Tyler. Not that either of the two newly dating couple paid him much attention, brushing away his jokes with a laugh.

Thomas returned to his home with a newfound happiness in his chest, a permanent smile and a rosy glaze on life. He hadn’t felt this happy in years, free to be himself around someone who accepted all of his flaws and imperfections. 

It was refreshing.

Lying down on his couch, Thomas closed his eyes and before long he had drifted off into a light nap. When he eventually woke up again, to the intrusive sound of his ringtone, the sky outside had shifted from a sea blue to a pale purple, clouds floating by and sun disappearing behind the trees. 

With a tired groan, Thomas reached blindly for his phone, answering the call. “Hello?”

“Get up,” it was Dylan, “I’m taking you on a date.”

Thomas ran his hand over his face, rubbing his temples with his eyes closed – he could feel a migraine coming. “’m, what time’s it?” 

“7:30.” A yawn escaped Thomas lips before he could stop it. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes and I expect you to be dressed and off of that couch.” Dylan demanded, but only humour was in his tone. It brought a smile to Thomas’ face.

“kay, see you then.” Thomas mumbled back in response before Dylan hung up, leaving the blonde to groan at stare up at the ceiling. But, despite his exhaustion, he couldn’t help but be excited; this was going to be his first real date with Dylan.

Sliding lazily off of the couch, Thomas dragged himself to his bedroom, where he dug through his closet in search for something more presentable than joggers and a t-shirt to wear. He finally decided on a crisp white shirt, top two buttons left undone, and a pair of dark denim jeans that clung to his legs like a second skin. 

Splashing cold water over his face in an attempt to look more awake, Thomas looked into his bathroom mirror. His hair was, as usual, just flopping over the side of his face. It had begun to turn a darker shade of blonde, easily mistakable for light brown in a low light, but he felt that it made him look more his own age. Running his long fingers through the locks, he settled on leaving it as it was and walked back out into his hallway.

Thomas shrugged on his favourite black leather jacket, quite like a biker’s jacket, pocketed his phone and wallet and slipped on his best shoes before leaving his apartment. With two minutes to spare, he took his time waiting for the elevator and strolling out towards the resident’s car park.

The unmistakable blue Jeep was already parked in its regular spot, its owner leaning casually against the bonnet.

Thomas’ heart skipped in his chest as he took in Dylan’s appearance. He wore a navy blue blazer jacket over a tight-fitting white shirt and a pair of black jeans that looked as though they had been freshly painted onto the man’s legs. Thomas had to avert his eyes from Dylan’s beautiful thighs before he caused himself a problem.

Dylan smiled over at Thomas as he saw him approaching, “You scrub up well.”

And then, unexpectedly, he leant forward and captured Thomas’ lips in a chaste kiss. The action caused the blonde to blush momentarily as he forget what he was about to say, eyes glazed over in a blissful peace. Everything with Dylan just always felt so natural.

Remembering where he was, Thomas smirked, looking Dylan up and down in an obvious manner, “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Don’t kid yourself, I look good all the time.” Dylan teased, laughter bubbling in his throat as he let Thomas into the passenger seat. Thomas chuckled, shaking his head at Dylan.

Once Dylan was settled into his seat and the engine was running again, Thomas turned to him. “So, where are you taking me?”

Dylan smirked, not meeting Thomas’ stare as he began to drive down the road in the direction that Thomas believed lead them outside the main city.

“That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Thomas huffed, arms crossed as he leant back in his seat. “Fine, I guess I’ll just have to wait then.”

He didn’t have to wait too long as before he knew it they were parking up beside a quaint-looking restaurant. A flashing neon sign hung over the entrance, the windows plastered with promotional posters and benches out the front, some with people sat in groups smoking cigarettes and laughing.

It looked like the sort of place that Thomas wouldn’t usually visit – not because he didn’t like them, but because the people he’d normally eat out with preferred posh food. Thomas didn’t; he’d much rather enjoy a quiet meal with nice drinks and good conversations.

Dylan opened the passenger door, taking Thomas’ hand as he led him out of the vehicle. Their fingers slotted together like two puzzle pieces.

They reached the entrance door, where Dylan pulled it open and (without breaking his grip on Thomas’ hand) bowed with a teasing smile, “After you.”

Thomas rolled his eyes playfully and stepped into the small restaurant with Dylan in tow. Immediately, he was hit with the warmth of the building, the smell of freshly cooked pub food and the sounds of multiple conversations, laughter and scrapes of cutlery on plates all melded into one. He couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face.

“Is it okay?” Dylan asked, worriedly.

“It’s perfect.”

With that, Dylan finally relaxed. He led Thomas to an empty booth at the back of the restaurant, away from most of the rowdy tables and out of people’s view. Within a few minutes, a waitress was at their table handing them menus and taking their order for drinks, a friendly smile on her face.

The couple sat opposite each other, smiles on their faces and hands still joined over the table, sharing light conversation as they scanned over the menu.

“I think I’m going to have the Mac and Cheese.” Dylan said, placing his menu down and taking a sip of his coke, ice floating on the top and clinking against the glass.  
Thomas hummed, eyes reading over the last of the menu. 

The red-haired waitress who’d brought their drinks over soon returned, notepad and pen in hand with the same wide smile as before. “Ready to order yet?” 

Dylan smiled up at her, “Yeah, I think we are. I’ll have the Mac and Cheese, please, and he’ll have…” he glanced over to Thomas.

“The spaghetti bolognaise, thanks.” Thomas finished, smiling towards the young girl. She nodded her head, writing down their orders and left them to continue their conversation.  
Thomas stared down at his and Dylan’s hands intertwined, fiddling with Dylan’s fingers mindlessly. “So, what made you decide to bring me here?”

Dylan watched Thomas with interest, “I don’t know, really…I guess I’ve just always liked the food here and I thought it would be a nice place to take you? You don’t think it’s too informal, do you?”

Thomas scoffed, meeting Dylan’s worried gaze. “I already told you, it’s perfect. I hate those posh restaurants with too many forks and overpriced plates. I’d much rather come someplace like this, it’s got a nice relaxed vibe to it.”

Dylan smiled, eyes flicking between Thomas and the table as he bit his bottom lip. “I guess I was just worried, you know? Because you’re…well, you’re you and I’m just me.”

Thomas sighed, free hand lifting Dylan’s chin up to make the brunet look back at him. “Hey, what I do doesn’t make me any different to you, okay? You’re an amazing person with a really strong talent for art! Just because I’m well-known due to my job acting doesn’t mean I’m anything better than you, and I never want you to think that. What I do as a job, I do because I enjoy it. Fame is a like a side dish, it’s just an addition to what I wanted.”

Dylan nodded, unable to find the words to reply. Thomas must have known that he understood though because, with a heart-warming smile, he leant across the table and pressed his warm lips to Dylan’s chapped ones. He was still cupping Dylan’s face, the man’s unruly stubble tickling his palm. 

Before the kiss could get any more heated, there was a quiet cough and the two broke apart to find the waitress blushing as she held two plates.

“Umm…sorry, uh…here’s your food.” she stuttered, placing their plates down onto the table in front of the two. She was about to walk away when she turned back around, cheeks painted pink. “You, uh, you two make a really cute couple.” 

Both Thomas and Dylan smiled at her, Thomas saying a quiet thank-you before she scurried away to clear up an abandoned tables plates. It didn’t seem as though she really recognised Thomas, but what she had said was still sweet and it remained in Thomas’ mind as he and Dylan enjoyed their meals, all the way through the night.

And, as Thomas lay in his bed a few hours later with memories of the date flooding through his mind and an unbreakable smile on his lips, those words stayed with him. Falling to sleep with the image of Dylan kissing his with such an overwhelming amount of sweet fondness, face cupped in his hands, the taste of Mac and Cheese and the smell of faint smoke and cologne, Thomas agreed – yeah, he and Dylan did make a cute couple.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

Thomas woke up the following day, legs cramped and neck stiff, on a familiar couch that wasn’t his own. The sun was barely reaching the dim room, allowing his tired eyes to adjust to the change in light on their own.

“Morning, sleepyhead.” a voice sang, deep and comforting. Thomas groaned in reply, rolling onto his back with a hand over his head.

“Ugh, I hate mornings.” he finally spoke, voice scratchy.

There was a light laugh coming from the other person in the room, Thomas identified it as Dylan, as the sound of mugs on a counter and water boiling could also be heard. Thomas kept his eyes closed, focusing on slow breaths and the sounds of quiet movement over in the kitchen. Dylan was humming to himself, tapping his fingers on the countertop, and it caused a smile to dance over Thomas lips.

The tapping stopped as Thomas heard the kettle whistle, and he assumed that Dylan was now pouring drinks for the two of them. The clinking of a teaspoon, the sound of a milk carton, and then soft pads across the floor told Thomas that Dylan was approaching him.

Dylan placed the two full mugs onto the floor by the couch, admiring Thomas splayed across it with the morning sun shimmering over his pale skin, top pulled up as he stretched and joggers sitting dangerously low on his prominent hipbones.

Thomas moaned as he felt fingers card through his unwashed hair, mindlessly massaging his scalp.

“You’re honestly so beautiful, especially in the morning.” Dylan said, stroking a thumb over Thomas’ cheek. He then must have leant down because the next thing Thomas felt was a pair of warm lips pressed to his in an innocent kiss, the sensation odd because Dylan was upside down.

Thomas smiled into Dylan’s lips, giggling as Dylan pulled away. “Thanks, love,” he said, “but you’re the good-looking one in this relationship.”

“Relationship,” Dylan muttered, more to himself, as he lifted Thomas’ head to sit down. Thomas nuzzled his head into Dylan’s lap, eyes still closed as he faced Dylan’s stomach. “I’ll never get tired of hearing that word.”

Thomas scoffed, a sound cut short as Dylan’s hands returned to his hair, “It’s been a day.”

“Nearly two, actually,” Dylan corrected, “and I don’t care; it makes me smile.”

“You’re so cheesy.” Thomas said, shaking his head.

“Yeah but that’s what makes me so loveable.” Dylan teased. Thomas just hummed, smile gracing over his lips.

He eventually sat up from Dylan’s lap when the brunet reached for his coffee, handing Thomas his tea. He still remained close to Dylan’s side, though, with his head now leant against Dylan’s shoulder, legs tucked onto the space on the couch beside him.

When Tyler walked in, hair dishevelled and wearing only boxer shorts, he wrinkled his nose at the couple. “Ew, get a room.” 

Thomas laughed, leaning up to peck Dylan on the cheek. Dylan turned his head swiftly to capture Thomas’ retreating lips in a longing kiss, and as they heard Tyler groan behind them he threw a pillow across the room.

Thomas feels himself melting into the kiss, chasing after Dylan’s soft lips - the flavour of coffee and mint. All that matters to him is the warmth spreading through him, entering his veins and taking over his body. His mind is fixated purely on Dylan, the man sat in front of him now with his hands in Thomas’ hair, breath heavy and eyes closed. 

Thomas runs a hand over Dylan’s jaw, smirking at the bristles under his fingertips, the slight scratch over his face. Dylan had that sort of rugged artist look about him with his messy hair, three day old stubble and glasses that make his eyes glisten unnatural under sunlight.

When the two eventually pulled apart, lips swollen, cheeks flushed, Dylan smirked. He cupped Thomas’ face with one hand, fingertips calloused, and pressed a chaste kiss on Thomas’ nose.

Thomas rolled his eyes but couldn’t stop the red flow rushing to surface at his cheeks because why was this man such an adorable dork? 

“If this is a perk that comes with dating you then maybe my future doesn’t seem so dismal.” Dylan said, voice low so only Thomas could hear him. Thomas smiled, eyes laughing.

“I second that.” 

Leaning up slightly, Thomas pressed another kiss to Dylan’s lips – this one shorter than the last, but still holding as much (if not more) meaning.

Tyler gagged behind them, carrying a plate of buttered toast and a mug of coffee. “Budge up, lovebirds, I want to sit down.”

Thomas laughed, willingly leaning further into Dylan’s side to allow Tyler space on the couch. Dylan wrapped an arm around Thomas’ shoulders, Thomas immediately resting his head on his arm.

Dylan didn’t miss the proud smile that Tyler shot towards the two cuddled together on the couch, and he returned it, feeling like the luckiest man alive as he looked down at Thomas – who seemed like he could drift back to sleep at any moment. A couple of days ago, Dylan would have thought this to be impossible, yet here he was. 

And he wouldn’t trade this for anything.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

Interviews for Thomas’ most recently released film had finished, the film showing in cinemas within the next month. Filming for his newest project started not long after that, meaning that the cast list would have already been released to fans around the world, waiting to hear which actors would be posing as their favourite characters.

Thomas and Dylan remained blissfully unaware to the hype, spending almost every waking moment together doing pretty much nothing other than spending time together. 

They enjoyed going out to get coffee on a regular basis, it had become somewhat of a routine. However, they didn’t always go to the quaint coffee shop that Dylan had taken Thomas to only months before. 

Together, they’d stumbled across a modern-looking coffee shop on a bustling street of the city, an intriguing menu of flavoured coffees displayed across the front window. Dylan had stopped, hand held in Thomas’ grasp and causing the blond to stop too.

Thomas had joined Dylan by the window, carrier bag full of random groceries swinging in his other hand, and looked over the menu.

“Do you want to go in?” Thomas asked, glancing to Dylan.

“Can we?” Dylan reminded Thomas of an overexcited puppy, causing him to smile fondly.

“Sure, babe.”

Slipping his hand out of Dylan’s, Thomas pushed open the door to allow them to enter the coffee shop. Immediately the strong scent of coffee beans and caramel hit them, along with the embracing warmth of the place compared to the cold chill outside. 

And that was where the couple found themselves on a late Saturday afternoon, the sun beaming bright across the dreary city, blinding unsuspecting people that just so happened to look up and observe the unusually clear blue sky.

As Thomas ordered their usual – caramel latte for him and a double strength cappuccino for Dylan – Dylan found his eyes trailing over the blond. He was wearing fitted black jeans, not skin-clingingly tight but just enough to make Dylan’s eyes linger maybe longer than necessary. He also had on a crisp, white shirt, buttoned to the collar as usual and a navy blazer that fitted his figure perfectly (sleeves rolled up to his elbows).

Dylan now felt scruffy stood next to this fine piece of God’s best work, wearing his grey trousers (one of the rare pairs of trousers he owned that weren’t stained with paint), a 3/4 length, navy sleeved white top and his old Adidas trainers.

But when Thomas turned around, handing Dylan his coffee and purposefully brushing his fingertips over Dylan’s bicep, those thoughts vanished. 

Thomas beamed at him; sliding his sunglasses back over his enchanting eyes (Dylan doing to same) and pushed open the door. They left the warmth of the coffee shop, hands wrapped around their take-out cups and relishing in the heat they radiated. 

“Are we going back to your place?” Dylan asked Thomas.

“Sure, I mean, unless you have anything else planned?”

“No, I’d rather go back to yours, I need to go back to get my stuff anyway.” 

They turned a corner, and Thomas took a sip of his drink (careful not to spill any or burn his tongue) before speaking. “You know, you can start leaving some things at mine. Only if you want to, of course.” he added to the end.

“Are you sure?” Dylan glanced to Thomas, who just smiled.

“Why wouldn’t I be? I mean, you spend most nights at mine anyway so it seems pointless you packing loads of things to take back and forth between there and your place.”  
Dylan shrugged. “I guess you have a point. Does that mean I can finally start using my own toothbrush when I’m at yours?”

Thomas almost spat out his mouthful of coffee, “You’ve been using my toothbrush?”

Dylan was looking at Thomas, his face set sternly, but he cracked and broke into a loud laugh. “Oh my God, your face! No, no, I’ve definitely been using my own toothbrush, don’t worry.”

Thomas rolled his eyes, fighting back a grin as he ruffled his fringe with his spare hand. “You’re such a dork.”

“A loveable one, though.” Dylan smirked, and almost leant forward to kiss Thomas but noticed someone stood on the other side of the street. The person was holding a camera and they weren’t being subtle about it.

Thomas followed Dylan’s gaze, spotting the same person. “Ugh, paps.” he sighed. “Don’t mind them, c’mon, let’s just get to mine.”

Dylan plastered on a smile and walked beside Thomas down the street. The stranger didn’t follow them for long, something which both Thomas and Dylan were thankful for.  
They entered Thomas’ apartment, Thomas locking the door and toeing off his shoes before placing his coffee down beside Dylan’s on the small end table that stood by the door. It was new, something Dylan had suggested he get to keep his keys and wallet where he won’t forget them (a habit of Thomas’ that he struggled with often).

Thomas had only just put his drink down when Dylan practically leapt forward, lips meeting in a heated kiss. Dylan had a grip on Thomas’ hips, thumbs adding pressure to the bone, as he held Thomas against the wall behind them. Thomas’ arms instinctively wrapped around Dylan’s neck, tugging the brunet closer to his body as their lips moved in a messy dance of tongues and hot breath. Their noses bumped together as Thomas tilted his head, allowing Dylan to take complete control of the kiss.

This was what Thomas loved most about their relationship; there was no specific dominant and submissive partner, they both enjoyed playing apart of both roles.

As Thomas was lost in thought, Dylan had pulled reluctantly away, chest heaving against Thomas’. “I’m sorry, I just really needed to kiss you.” Dylan spoke, voice an octave lower and going straight through Thomas.

The blond barely managed to restrict his hips from bucking forwards. “S’okay, I wasn’t complaining.” he smirked, one hand tangling into Dylan’s brown locks of unbrushed hair.

Dylan scoffed, leaning down to place his lips on Thomas’ sharp jawline. Thomas gasped as he felt Dylan’s teeth graze ever so slightly over the pale skin, and he leant his head back against the wall to give Dylan better access.

Dylan’s smirk was noticeable despite Thomas’ eyes being closed, as Dylan began to pepper soft kisses and loving bite marks down Thomas’ jaw, to his exposed neck, to his collarbone. 

At a particular spot, the area between Thomas’ shoulder and neck, Dylan swiped his tongue across the cool skin. Thomas could feel his skin burning, itching under the clothes that restricted him, but he focused on what Dylan was doing. 

Dylan kissed the spot sweetly before, without warning, sunk his teeth down (something which oddly turned Thomas on even more) and sucked a red mark that contrasted sinfully against Thomas’ pale skin. A moan fell out from between Thomas’ parted lips and he felt his face flush.

Dylan’s light chuckled could be heard as he brought his face back up to Thomas’ height and planted another kiss to Thomas’ swollen lips. “I love the sounds you make.” Dylan whispered hotly, thumb stroking over Thomas’ heated face and tucking a loose strand of his fringe back into place.

“I love you.” Thomas countered, eyes now open and staring straight into Dylan’s. Both men had dilated pupils, the colours of their irises enhanced by their emotions.

Dylan’s hand slid down to rest at Thomas’ waist and he leant forward so that his sweaty forehead was pressed against Thomas’ – their eyes never left each other’s. “I love you too.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

Dylan leant his head back until it rested against the soft edge of the couch cushion behind him. He and Thomas were splayed out across the floor of Thomas’ living-room, legs tangled together. The TV was on, adverts running through as background sound to the conversation being shared between the couple.

“So, what you’re saying is that you don’t want people to know about our relationship?” Dylan questioned, eyeing Thomas from the odd angle that his head was now positioned in.

Thomas sighed, clearly exasperated, but spoke with a gentle tone. “No, Dylan, it’s not that I don’t want people to know about you – I do, trust me, I want nothing more than to show you off – but I’m scared. I’m scared of how people might treat you! I don’t want you getting hurt.”

Dylan closed his eyes as he listened to Thomas speak. He felt a pair of hands join his, cupping his hand as though it was some fragile piece of glass – something to be treasured and looked after.

“Dylan, babe, look at me.” Thomas pleaded, his voice cracking as he tried to remain quiet so not to ruin the peaceful atmosphere around them. Dylan blinked open his eyes to meet Thomas’ loving gaze. “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

Dylan understood, of course he did, it just sucked that they couldn’t walk around like a normal couple. However, despite the disappointment, Dylan couldn’t help but feel his heart warm at the fact that Thomas was worried about him; Thomas was more concerned with Dylan being harassed and hated on than he was about coming out as gay to the world and that in itself was a reason to smile.

“It’s okay, we can wait. As long as I have you, I don’t mind; I don’t need to brag about it. I’d rather spend that time doing better things.” Dylan said, smirking towards the end.

Thomas chuckled, a deep throaty sound that vibrated through Dylan’s body. Thomas quickly lent down, dipping his head to meet Dylan’s lips in a sweet kiss. “I love you.”

Dylan just hummed back, smile wide, as he lost himself in the warmth of Thomas lips, the taste of tea on his tongue.

The next hour was spent cuddling on the floor, making fun of whatever TV show had come on and sharing random kisses in ad breaks. If Dylan was ever asked to define the word perfection, this would be the example he’d use. 

“You know I’m leaving to start filming in a few weeks, right?” Thomas mumbles, breath falling hotly onto Dylan’s ear. Dylan shivered, smiling at how Thomas’ chin kept nudging his head as he spoke too.

“I know.” Dylan said. “I’m going to miss you.”

Thomas exhaled through his nose, the soft rush of air slipping down Dylan’s neck. “I’ll miss you too, love.” He pressed a feather-light kiss to Dylan’s hair.

“It’s only for a couple months though. You’ll soon be back home and we can spend every day together again.” Dylan said with a laugh.

“Oh, that reminds me actually.” Said Thomas, suddenly sitting upright but keeping his arm wrapping around Dylan to hold him close. “The premiere of The Fallen is next week and I’ve been invited to go with a plus one.”

Dylan nodded along as he listened, “Have you decided on who you might take?”

“Hmm…see that’s my problem. I don’t really know many people, but there’s this one person that I had in mind.” Thomas smirked, nuzzling into Dylan’s neck momentarily. “Wanna come with me?” he asked, peeking up at Dylan through his long eyelashes. 

Dylan rolled his eyes but he couldn’t keep the smile off of his face. He nudged Thomas up. 

“Of course, you idiot! My first movie premiere – oh, I feel famous already! Where’s it at? Do we get to travel down to Hollywood!”

Thomas’ face dropped slightly, but he quickly fixed his smile – though he looked more sheepish. “Ah, not quite.”

“Oh, is it just here? I mean, it’s not as cool but I’m still super excited!”

Thomas placed a hand on Dylan’s shoulder. “No, actually, it’s in London.”

Dylan was still for a moment, mind processing the new information. Suddenly, his face lit up and he squealed. “Really! I’ve never been to England before! Oh, can we go sightseeing whilst we’re there?”

Thomas shook his head with a smile, “Thank God; I thought you were going to hate the idea. Of course we’ll go sightseeing.”

“Hate it? Why would I hate it?”

Thomas shrugged, “I don’t know, you just might not have wanted to travel so far. I’m glad you don’t mind, though.”

“Don’t be an idiot, I’d travel around the world for you.” Dylan said, smiling up at Thomas.

“You’re an actual dork, I hope you know that.” Thomas muttered, smiling as he settled back down with Dylan in his arms once again.

Dylan smirked, tilting his head and pressing his lips to Thomas’ stubble-covered jaw. “Yeah, but you still love me.”

“I do.” Thomas laughed, just as the theme tune for another sitcom started up on the TV and they both quietened to watch it, happy as long as they had each other.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

Thomas laid his head back against the travel pillow he’d brought onto the plane with him. Dylan sat in the seat next to him, earphones in and eyes closed with a peaceful look over his face. 

It was funny, Thomas thought to himself, that the first time he’d laid eyes on Dylan was in a plane quite similar to this one. That memory seemed years away, stored somewhere in the back of Thomas’ mind and replaced by many new memories (most of which included Dylan). In reality, it was only about three months ago.

A lot could happen in three months, though.

Thomas dropped his hand onto the shared armrest between him and Dylan, intertwining their fingers out of pure habit, as he slowly lost himself in the low rhythmic hum of the engine and the constant whir of the plane.

Thomas slept until he was awoken by a loud rush of commotion, passengers grabbing their hand luggage and making their way noisily off of the plane. Dylan nudged him from the side, a lazy grin on his face.

“Hey, sleepyhead.” Dylan said, voice heavy with sleep.

Thomas barely spoke an understandable word, a string of tired groans and grumbles as he stood up on his weak legs and reached up for his and Dylan’s bags. Slinging the strap of his bag over his shoulder, and handing Dylan is own luggage, Thomas began to lead the way off of the plane.

The couple followed the other passengers down the long corridor, through the passport control, and into a large area that had doors leading to different exits of the airport. A huge conveyor belt of suitcases stood in the centre of the tiled floor.

They neared the luggage that was spinning non-stop in a slow rotation of the crowd of passengers. They’d only brought one suitcase; it was only a weekend trip after all.

Spotting the slightly worn, sapphire blue suitcase drawing closer, Thomas slipped his way between the people surrounding them so that he could reach the case better. The bright ribbon binding the tag (which now stated both of their names) to the handle, caught Thomas’ eye and he knew that it was definitely the right suitcase.

Pulling it down from the moving belt, he stood it up onto its wheels and lifted up the handle. 

With the suitcase wheeling behind him, Thomas joined Dylan again and they walked hand-in-hand, merging into the crowd of people, to the nearest exit. A taxi was waiting for them outside, and after shoving their luggage into the boot of the car, they slid into the worn-down leather backseat.

Thomas listed off the name of the hotel that they were staying at and the driver set off in that direction.

Dylan rested his head on Thomas’ shoulder, eyes watching through the window at the passing streets of London, everything looking eerily abandoned in the shadows of the night. There were a few groups of young, drunk friends stumbling along the streets – clinging to lampposts and laughing obnoxiously loud – since it was a Friday night.

Thomas felt floods of nostalgia seeing the familiar city that he grew up in, and being back now with Dylan almost drifting to sleep at his side (his messy brown hair tickling Thomas’ neck) and the soothing music coming from the radio of the taxi, Thomas felt incredibly lucky.

They eventually arrived outside the hotel, a posh 4-star rated hotel near the centre of the city. A large, blood red awning hung above the entrance – which was a spotless glass door with a gold-plated frame and handles. 

Thomas and Dylan both carried their bags, Thomas dragging the suitcase behind him as they walked up to the entrance. Pulling the door open, Thomas nodded his head for Dylan to pass through – a gesture which sent a blush rushing to Dylan’s cheeks.

Following Dylan inside, Thomas was welcomed by a warm rush of air and the fresh smell of lemon. The tiles were marbled beige, and as the two men walked their trainers squeaked.

The receptionist, a young woman with fair skin and chestnut brown hair tied up into a tight bun, greeted them with a wide smile. Her lipstick, a popping bright red, contrasted her skin greatly yet was an almost perfect match to her uniform (a red waistcoat over a white blouse).

“Hi, how can I help you? Have you booked a room?” she spoke, a voice clearly perfected for visitors.

“Hello,” Thomas replied as he set the suitcase to stand between him and Dylan, “There should be a room under the name Sangster?”

The woman typed something into her computer. Whilst she did that, Thomas leant his elbows on the well-varnished desk, watching Dylan with a small smile. Dylan was flicking through the colourful leaflets stacked in front of the desk, each one advertising a different tourist attraction. He picked up a few that must have caught his interest, holding them in his free hand.

“Oh yeah, here it is – Thomas Brodie-Sangster, room 102.” the voice of the receptionist cut through the quiet, and Thomas straightened up, returning the woman’s smile. She handed him their key for the room, directing him up two floors and down a left from the elevator.

With a nod, Thomas slipped the key into his pocket and thanked her. Two elevators, side by side, waited to their right – up a single step that lead to a carpeted floor, an area joined to a large spaced dining room.

Dylan pressed the button or the second floor as Thomas pulled the suitcase in to the elevator, resting against the metal pole that was against one wall. He shot a lazy smile in Thomas’ direction, receiving one back.

It didn’t take long for the doors to reopen with a ping, revealing a long and low-lit corridor. The same floral patterned carpet covered the floors here, along with beige walls with a red border. It was a very simplistic but sophisticated look.

Thomas pulled out the room key as Dylan came to a stop at a door not far down from the elevator. 102. Unlocking the door, he pushed it open and let Dylan step in first.

A quiet gasp slipped from Dylan’s mouth as he took in the room they would be staying in. He should have figured, from the design of the rest of the hotel, that it wouldn’t be like the basic one bed, white sheets and a tiny bathroom sort of hotel rooms that he was used to. 

The carpet and walls matched the corridor, but frames of abstract landscapes of London hung on each wall. There was a flatscreen TV standing above an oak wood dresser, which stood beside a matching oak desk, a kettle and enough tea, coffee and sugar to last a week, placed on top. A tall lamp stood in the far corner, switched off for now, and beside that was a plush armchair. A pile of fresh towels sat in the chair.

The bed was the main attraction of the room. A large, queen sized bed, with a red throw and matching red pillows. An incredibly soft blanket covered the bed, the colour of honey brown. The mattress was deep and clearly comfortable; as Dylan perched on the edge of it and felt it sink down to adjust to his weight.

“I might just stay here for the whole trip, we don’t need to go sight-seeing.” Dylan laughed, flopping his back down onto the mattress and closing his eyes.

Thomas chuckled, placing their bags and suitcase by the desk and looking round. To the left of the door was an en-suite – tiled white floor, pristine sink and toilet and a walk-in shower with a sliding glass door. Tiny bottles of shampoo, conditioner and shower gel lined up along the side of the shower on a small, silver shelf. There were two bars of soap on the sink, one pink and one green.

An unmarked mirror covered the wall behind the sink, showing Thomas his own reflection, dishevelled hair and bags under his eyes.

As Thomas stepped back out of the mini bathroom, he saw Dylan pushing back the blackout, red curtains that were opposite the doorway into the room, to reveal a large glass door. Dylan went to pull the door open but it didn’t budge.

“Pass us the keys to the room?” Dylan suggested, noticing Thomas stood by the door.

Thomas took the keys, handing them to Dylan as he joined him. Dylan swiftly kissed Thomas’ cheek, something which had become a habit of Dylan’s, before turning the key in the small lock on the door and finally sliding the door open.

They were met with a gentle cold breeze and the low buzz of nightlife in London. The door led to a balcony (with a solid iron railing) that had just enough space for two people to sit out on the two woven wicker chairs by the small coffee table that had been left out. The two chairs had little cushions strung to them, one pink and one green (like the soap, Thomas noted) and there was an ashtray sat in the centre of the coffee table.

Dylan slid into one of the chairs, the one with the pink cushion sat furthest from the door, and looked out at the view of the city. Thomas copied, sitting down in the other chair.  
“This is beautiful.” Dylan said as he looked back at Thomas. “Thank you.”

“What for?” 

Dylan shrugged. “For bringing me with you, I don’t know. I’ve never got to experience something like this. It’s pretty amazing.”

“Well I think you’re pretty amazing.” Thomas said, a cheesy grin on his face as he leant closer to Dylan. Dylan laughed, an ugly snort, and he blushed. 

“Shut up, that was so bad!”

Thomas quirked an eyebrow as he hovered in front of Dylan’s face, eyes flicking between his eyes and his lips. “If it was so bad, why did you laugh?”

Dylan didn’t have an answer, but that didn’t matter as Thomas had connected their lips within seconds of asking the question, moaning into the warmth that Dylan emitted. 

No kiss was quite the same, each one unique in its meaning, its location and its duration. Each one was special, though, even the short ones that they would share sat down on the couch watching a film. They were just as meaningful as the passionate ones, much like this one, the hair gripping, lip biting, breath-taking kisses. 

Thomas didn’t have a favourite, either. Maybe that was because of Dylan, because as long as it was Dylan that he was kissing, he was more than happy. Be it a peck on the cheek, or something more, at the end of the day Thomas was with Dylan and that was enough for him.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

The day of the premiere for Thomas’ latest film appearance is hectic to say the least. 

After over-sleeping by a couple hours (both blame jet lag) Thomas and Dylan only just manage to arrive at the venue on time, strangers bustling them inside the building before anyone can delay them any further. It’s 5:30pm, leaving them just under two hours until the showing.

Thomas finds himself shoved into a room full of make-up artists and clothes rails bearing pristine, red carpet worthy outfits. The people awaiting his arrival waste no time pulling him into a chair in front of his own reflection, grabbing brushes and gels and waxes – all the stuff apparently needed to style his hair for the event.

Dylan is left out in the corridor, the young man who’d greeted them when they first arrived (a particularly attractive dark-skinned guy who appeared to be going for a hipster style – acid wash jeans, red and white plaid shirt, band tee and Clark Kent style glasses) shook his hand with a wide smile. 

“Hi, my name’s Jason. Are you a friend of Mr Brodie-Sangster’s?” Dylan didn’t miss the judging glance at his own attire, skinny jeans and a white shirt left untucked. However, the man (Jason) seemed nice enough.

With a nod, Dylan said, “Yeah, something like that.”

“Well,” Jason started, then frowned, “sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

“Oh, yeah, Dylan. It’s Dylan.” 

“Ah, well Dylan, let me take you to one of the side rooms we have set up for the cast and their guests. I’m pretty sure there’s still one left empty. If you’d just follow me?”

Dylan didn’t hesitate, more than happy to get away from the loud commotion surrounding them. People were rushing from room to room, cast members being dressed and told what to say and do once on the red carpet. It was all a bit too much for someone not quite used to it.

Turning down into a less crowded corridor, Dylan found himself walking into a small room (that appeared to have once been an abandoned side room in the theatre they were in) modified into a quiet sanctuary for cast members and other celebrity guests invited tonight.

Luckily, it was not currently claimed by anybody.

“Here, this should do fine.” Jason said, spinning in a quick circle in the centre of the room, “Once he’s been prepped, we’ll send Mr Brodie-Sangster here until he’s needed outside.”  
With that, Jason began to head out of the room. Just as he was closing the door behind himself, he popped his head between the gap and said, “Please, make yourself at home.” And then he was gone, leaving behind the faint fruity aroma of his cologne.

Dylan stood in the room, alone, wondering what to do whilst he waited. Checking his watch, he saw that they still had an hour until the event began.

How long would Thomas be?

Dylan didn’t know, he’d never done this before.

With a small sigh, he dropped down into the inviting cushions of the couch placed directly in the middle of the room, a dark green material that complimented the pale yellow walls surrounding him. A large mirror hung on the wall in front of him, the fresh remnants of polish noticeable even from Dylan’s distance.

It made him laugh, really, the amount of effort put into stupid details like cleaning old mirrors just for one night.

A TV, hanging just to the side of the door, caught Dylan’s eye as he was scanning the room (nothing particularly interesting lay about). Reaching for the remote, left on the coffee table in which his feet were now propped on top of, Dylan switched the TV on and prayed that it would have signal.

Thankfully, the screen lit up to reveal a random channel – some British cooking show that Dylan had never heard of. He went to switch channels, but paused as he started unexpectedly laughing at the panicked expressions of the contestants and the unnecessarily harsh comments made by the judges. Before he knew it, another half an hour had passed and he was still sat watching the random show.

As he went to check his phone, the door to the room opened with a creak and in popped a familiar head of blonde hair. Thomas quickly shut the door behind him, smiling over at Dylan.

“Hey, love, sorry I kept you waiting.”

Dylan shook his head, no longer focused on anything but the man stood across the room from him. Thomas looked totally transformed. The cashmere jumper and jeans had been swapped for a smart navy suit jacket and better fitted jeans (Dylan certainly appreciated the way the material clung to Thomas’ fine ass), and he wore a matching white shirt to Dylan. His usual flopping fringe was now styled immaculately into a perfect quiff, wax and gel clearly doing its job of holding the locks of hair up.

But lastly, somehow, Thomas’ pale and tired face had been completely revived into flawless perfection; smooth skin, bright eyes, wide smile and most importantly no more massive bags under his eyes. 

The man just gleamed in front of Dylan (who had unknowingly risen from his seat on the couch and began walking closer to Thomas).

“Never apologise for keeping me waiting, you know I’d wait the length of eternity for you.” Dylan spoke, shocked at the gravelly sound of his voice, “Especially if you’re coming back looking like this.”

Thomas smirked, one eyebrow raised, as Dylan stopped in front of him. He was close enough that if Thomas leant forward a couple inches they’d surely be kissing. But Thomas held off.

Dylan watched as Thomas deliberately slid his tongue across his top lip, before sucking his lower lip back into his mouth to bite at it as he spoke a breathy, “Oh, do I look alright then?”

Dylan groaned, dragging his eyes away from Thomas’ mouth. “Are you kidding me? You don’t just look alright; you look goddamn hot as hell!”

Thomas laughed at the obvious frustration in Dylan’s voice, but gulped when Dylan suddenly grabbed hold of the lapels of his borrowed jacket and pulled him closer.

“God, the things I want to do to you right now.” Dylan practically growled in Thomas’ ear, breath hot and heavy and sending flames of arousal through Thomas’ body.

Thomas tilted his head up so that his lips brushed over the tip of Dylan’s ear. “Just do them already.” he challenged.

Apparently that was all it took, for Dylan had his lips against Thomas’ within the second of Thomas opening his mouth, moans falling out in between them. The grip Dylan had on Thomas’ jacket only tightened as he tried to pull the blond impossibly closer, knuckles growing white.

Thomas found himself whimpering, small noises of pleasure slipping from his lips as he closed his eyes and relished in his heightened senses. The overbearing warmth of Dylan’s body now pressing him against the door, the feeling of Dylan’s mouth on his hungry and passionate, the quiet moans rising between them. 

It was inappropriate in a way, unexpected – an act based purely on emotions and not thought – but that’s what made the moment that much more intense. 

Thomas gasped for breath as Dylan pulled away, not wasting any time as he soon pressed his lips to Thomas’ pale neck, finding the exact spot that melted Thomas’ insides within seconds – just above the collarbone, the small part of exposed skin under his jaw.

A chorus of moans and pants left Thomas’ mouth, despite how much he tried to muffle them, as Dylan bit down roughly into the skin, replacing his teeth with his tongue to sooth the pain. Thomas was writhing under Dylan’s mouth, breathless and hot.

Another moan, loud and intrusive in the otherwise quiet room, was cut short by a sudden knock against the door behind Thomas. The sound surprised them both and they jumped apart, well Dylan jumped back; Thomas couldn’t exactly move as he was trapped between Dylan’s body and the door.

“Five minutes until you’re needed outside Thomas!” a voice called through the door, sounding unaware of what had just been playing out on the other side of the door.

Thomas went to speak but struggled, voice unsteady and stuck in his throat. Dylan noticed, calling out a quick, “Okay, we’ll be there in three!” which seemed to please the unknown person, who left to move onto the next room.

Thomas let out a breath of air, eyes sliding shut as he rested his head against the door. His chest was heaving and he felt an uncomfortable situation below that he knew he needed to tame before going outside. He could also feel a pleasurable sting on his neck, burning hot.

“We’ll finish this later, can’t be having you late for the red carpet.” Dylan whispered, stepping closer again, a smirk evident in the tone of his voice. Thomas didn’t even reply, just blinking through his lashes at Dylan.

Dylan chuckled slyly, blowing cool air onto the obvious mark left on Thomas’ neck.

Pushing himself off of the door, and side-stepping Dylan who followed behind him, Thomas stood in front of his full body reflection in the large mirror that took up most of the wall that it was hung on. His eyes, glistening brighter than before, fell instantly on the red bruise on his neck – the colour contrasting greatly from his pale skin.

“Dyl! They’re gonna kill me if anyone asks about this; how am I supposed to explain it?” he accused, eyes meeting Dylan’s in the reflection of them both, but there was no malice in his voice. “And oh my God, you’ve practically ruined my hair!”

He was right, though Dylan hadn’t laid a finger on Thomas’ hair, it had now fallen from the grasps of the gel and wax and was now once again flopping over his face. 

Dylan however, just smiled cheekily and ran a hand through the locks of blonde hair by Thomas’ face. “Well, I personally prefer it like this anyway. And as for this,” Dylan ran a cold finger over the hickey hiding under Thomas’ collar, “I needed to mark you as taken before you went out there looking like this for the world to see, didn’t I?”

Thomas rolled his eyes, attempting to push down the feeling in his stomach at the possessive tone in Dylan’s voice. He tried his best to restyle his hair but gave up with a huff as it kept falling back over half of his face. “Come on, we should go.”

Together they walked out of the room and followed the other people through to the main lobby of the theatre. Thomas was quickly pulled from the crowd to slip through the back exit and round to enter again but down the red carpet, whilst Dylan was ushered along with the other guests to the screening room. 

Designated seats had been set, Dylan found him and Thomas sat near the front. Settling into his seat, Dylan watched the people around getting to their own seats and greeting other people. It was surreal, really, being here. He didn’t know anybody enough to strike up a conversation, but he didn’t mind because he had Thomas, and he was just enjoying the privilege. A year ago, he would never have believed somebody if they told him where he’d be today – especially not if they said who he would be with and why.

It was all kind of like one big dream. Only, Dylan knew that this was real and that he wasn’t going to all of a sudden wake up and find himself alone in his bed again. This, all of it, was real.

Thomas ignored the disgruntled looks from the stylists as they caught sight of his hair, feeling sheepish. 

He stepped out of the car that had pulled up outside the theatre, having simply driven him round the nearby streets (laughing about the falsity of everything). Immediately, he was blinded by the lights of flashing cameras and bombarded by question after question, screams of fans and catcalls from others.

Like a pro, having had years’ experience of these situations now, Thomas walked onto the red carpet with his head held high, shoulders back – ‘walking with purpose’ as his father would say.

He idled from reporter to reporter, smiling through the many pictures, laughing along with the jokes made and answering the regular questions. He paused to take pictures with fans, giving them all hugs as he passed.

Suddenly, a recognisable voice called his name through the crowd of people. Turning around, Thomas spotted a woman with long brown curls, a tight-fitted red dress clinging to her thin figure and matching red lips smiling over at him.

“Tom! How are you? It’s been so long!”

Thomas laughed, pulling the woman into a warm hug (ignoring the sudden outburst from nearby press that started snapping photos of the two). “God, it’s been months, Kaya! I’m great, thanks, never bene better. How have you been?”

“Amazing! We need to catch up properly later, away from this.” Kaya said, gesturing around them. Thomas nodded in agreement.

The two friends continued down the red carpet together, greeting fans and posing for pictures side by side – Thomas held Kaya by the waist, as she had an arm wrapped around him too.

“Thomas! Thomas!” a reporter began shouting desperately as Thomas and Kaya pulled away from yet another photo. Thomas turned to face the reporter, an older looking woman standing as close as possible to the red carpet of celebrities. 

Thomas’ guess (judging by the worried look in her eyes and the desperation in her voice as she clung to her camera) was that she needed something big to post in the newspapers or magazine she was working for in order to keep her job. This happened all the time to reporters, sooner or later they ran out of interesting or unique material and there was the risk of being replaced by someone newer and fresher.

Feeling sorry for her, Thomas stepped closer (Kaya wasn’t far behind, talking to a group of young girls all crying – with joy, hopefully).

The woman started off with the usual questions – mainly about the film, some of rumours about new films, and the occasion ones about possible relationships. Thomas answered all the same as he’d already answered, trying not to look bored. 

He was about to move on to the next group of people, some fans reaching out and calling his name, when the reporter grabbed his wrist and pointed the camera towards him. Snapping a few photos, she spoke, “Thomas, is that a hickey on your neck? Who’s the person responsible? What can you tell us about your relationship? Is it with anybody from the cast? Or maybe it’s not even an established relationship? Was it from a one night stand?”

Question after question poured out of the woman’s mouth as she captured pictures of the growing red mark barely visible from under Thomas’ collar. Thomas quickly turned away from the camera, resisting the need to roll his eyes as he ignored the woman’s comments and moved on towards the girls asking for a picture with him.

No doubt that story would be plastered all over the front page of some random celebrity gossip magazine, but honestly Thomas couldn’t bring himself to care. It wasn’t like they knew who gave him the hickey.

That thought caused the blond to smirk to himself, thinking back to that moment in the room between him and Dylan. God, he couldn’t wait to finish what Dylan started later that night up in their hotel room. Dylan’s going to regret marking him like he did.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

Barely 36 hours following the premiere, Thomas and Dylan have arrived back to New York – tired, jet-lagged and in need of a good shower. Thomas’ apartment is almost exactly how they left it, though there was now an extra layer of dust protecting every bare surface. 

Thomas heaved his luggage into the bedroom, throwing it onto the bed to begin unpacking and laughing as he watched Dylan trudge in behind him, pouting because Thomas hadn’t offered to help with his bag. 

“You’re not a gentleman at all.” Dylan muttered, but his tone was light and teasing. He dumped his suitcase by the foot of the bed and sighed a breath of relied, shoulders sagging forward. Thomas admired him in an appreciative silence; even as exhausted as Dylan was, he still managed to look beautiful. His hair was ruffled, sticking up awkwardly from how he’d fallen asleep on Thomas’ shoulder during the cab ride here. His glasses had small fingerprint smudges on them and his clothes were wrinkled. He had a 5 o’clock shadow across his sharpened jawline from not shaving since before the premiere. But his eyes were gleaming, relaxed in the familiar surroundings. The small smile on his lips not budging, only growing wider when he noticed Thomas staring. “What?”

Thomas shrugged, taking a long step closer until he was stood face to face with his boyfriend, eyes searching his flawed yet perfect face. “Thanks for coming with me.” Thomas said, his voice quieter than he’d expected.

Dylan seemed surprised, “What do you mean? You don’t need to thank me, you idiot! I should be thanking you for taking me.”

Thomas rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. “Well tough, I already thanked you.” Dylan huffed, but his smile broke through his pout. “I’m going to run us a nice, hot bath whilst you sort out this mess.” Thomas said, gesturing vaguely between the suitcases. Running his fingertips down Dylan’s arm, he leant in to press a chaste kiss to Dylan’s mouth before disappearing into the bathroom.

Almost an hour later, the couple were lounging on the bed with their legs entwined, Dylan resting his head on Thomas’ bare chest as Thomas ran his fingers through his still damp hair. The sweet aroma of rose and blackberry hung in the air, drifting from the steamy bathroom.

“Oh God,” Thomas chuckled with amusement, nudging Dylan’s side gently as he moved his arm to tilt his phone to Dylan’s eyelevel. Dylan hummed questioningly, before his eyes fell on the phone screen – a news article. Dylan’s eyes squinted as he quickly scanned the article before they crinkled at the sides as he broke out into a loud burst of laughter.

“No way!” he cried, wiping his eyes. “Is that for real?”

Thomas smirked, trying to look embarrassed but failing miserably. “Unfortunately, yeah.”

The article was one of those trendy online types, the ones usually full of rubbish celebrity gossip and ridiculous quizzes. Thomas had been scrolling through his Twitter feed when he saw it, and if it hadn’t have been for a picture of him as the header he wouldn’t have clicked on it. As it so happens, curiosity had gotten the best of him – especially since the picture itself was of Thomas from the premiere the other night, his head turned as he spoke to a fan, with a zoomed in snippet of the fresh hickey on his neck that was peeking out from under his shirt collar. 

The article went on to say a load of rubbish about Thomas being secretive all night, not answering questions and particularly avoiding any hints at relationships. It was completely fake, of course, as he hadn’t avoided the majority of the reporters there and in all fairness not many of them had asked him about a relationship. In fact, there was only that pushy woman who had spotted the hickey that kept asking him the same questions – all of which he ignored.

Over his years working in the industry and making a name for himself, Thomas had learnt to not be bothered by this sort of thing. If anything, he always found it humorous. 

This article in particular was funny, literally bringing Dylan to tears, simply for the fact that at the bottom of the page there had been a live poll added in which readers could vote on who they believed Thomas to be sexually involved with currently. It was rather stupid, really, Thomas thought. Though, he had to admit, it was intriguing to see who people were pairing him up with.

As expected, Kaya was one of the most popular options. Thomas rolled his eyes at that.

A loud yawn brought Thomas’ attention from the article, eyes falling on a sleepy Dylan who had his hand covering his mouth, eyes squeezed shut. With a soft smile, Thomas shut his phone off – plugging it into the socket by his bed – and shuffled his body down so that he was at Dylan’s level. Turned onto his side, he lay facing Dylan, who smiled sheepishly at him.

“Come on, we should get some rest.” Thomas said, already pulling the covers over the two of them and wrapping an arm around Dylan’s waist to pull him closer. Dylan let out a content sigh, nuzzling into Thomas’ warmth and dropping his arm over his hips. Thomas smiled, pressing a light kiss to Dylan’s forehead and stroking his hair from his eyes before settling into the pillow cushioning his head and allowing his own eyes to fall closed. Within minutes, the two were fast asleep, safe in each other’s arms.

The peaceful quiet spent resting and enjoying each other’s company only lasted two days; the busy commotion of London and the press and returning home had almost made the two forget that Thomas was due to leave for filming. The sudden realisation brought a cloud of grey to their day, Dylan moping around in the kitchen that morning as he made himself a coffee and Thomas a tea. 

Thomas was in the bedroom packing his last minute stuff, shoving the script into his hand-luggage to re-read during the flight to LA where he would be staying for the duration of the shooting process. It was a technical film with lots of action scenes and Thomas being the main role meant that he would have to film for a while – probably two or three months in total.

Zipping up his suitcase with a satisfied smile, Thomas dragged it out into the hallway to wait by the front door ready for when it was the inevitable time to leave.

Thomas then wandered into the kitchen, where he found Dylan stood by the kettle, straining the teabag for Thomas’ cup of tea. A sad smile seemed to take over Thomas’ face and he felt himself sigh as he stepped closer to Dylan, wrapping his arms tightly around the younger man and resting his chin on his shoulder. Dylan instantly leaned into his touch, closing his eyes for a brief moment.

Thomas tilted his head to press a kiss to Dylan’s cheek, smiling as the stubble that was still there tickled his skin. “I’m really going to miss you.” Thomas said, feeling his words rip through the gloomy silence. 

Dylan nodded, throwing the used teabag into the bin next to them. “I know.” He muttered back, passing Thomas his tea. Thomas cradled the mug to his chest in an attempt to warm himself up; the apartment still held a brisk chill at such an early time of the year. 

Or maybe he was just hoping that the heat from the mug would heal the agonising pain he felt rip through his chest as Dylan had spoken those two words, short and quiet – heart-breaking. He hadn’t needed to say anything else for Thomas to understand how much Dylan was going to miss him too.

It sucked, it really did, but Thomas had no choice in the matter; it was his job, at the end of the day. Sometimes he would have to leave, but he’d always come back. He’d already told Dylan all of this last night, though.

It still didn’t make the situation any easier to deal with.

The two had agreed to say goodbye before leaving the apartment; saying goodbye at the airport seemed too much, and Thomas wasn’t sure he’d be able to get on the plane if Dylan was stood there at the gates, almost crying and clinging to him like he was now.

Their goodbye was short, both trying not to show how much it hurt and putting on a brave face because it was only going to be a couple of months. That’s what Thomas had to keep reminding himself.

Thomas stroked Dylan’s hair, wiping away any tears that threatened to fall down the beautiful man’s cheeks. Dylan gazed up at him with a watery smile, chuckling as he saw Thomas’ eyes welling up too. 

“Stop it, stop it,” Dylan repeated, voice weak as he forced the words out despite his throat feeling like it was going to close up. He lifted himself slightly on his tiptoes to wipe away the fresh tears from Thomas’ eyes, pressing a wet kiss to the blond’s forehead in the process. “I’ll be fine, okay?”

Thomas laughed sadly, nodding. “I know you will.”

“Good.” Dylan said, hands sliding down Thomas’ arms until they reached his clammy hands, where he laced their fingers together. “Now,” he started up after a deep breath, plastering on a wide smile. “You get going before you miss you flight, and make sure you enjoy it, yeah?”

Thomas rolled his eyes lovingly at his boyfriend’s demanding tone but he nodded once more. Dylan seemed satisfied with that, smiling up at Thomas before grabbing his luggage and pulling it through the front door with him.

By the time they were outside, both men had stopped crying and were now bearing weak but happy smiles. Dylan helped Thomas put his luggage into the back of the cab that he had booked to take him to the airport, before he took Thomas’ hands in his own again.

“Take care.” Thomas said, squeezing Dylan’s hands. Dylan squeezed back with a tiny nod.

Thomas smiled bitter sweetly, dipping his head to meet Dylan in the middle, lips joining together like magnets. The kiss was warm and wet, the lingering taste of salt on their lips. Their hands remained intertwined between them, pulling each other impossibly closer until the chill from outside seemed but a distant memory as they lost themselves in each other’s warmth. 

It was all over too fast.

Dylan pulled away, shooing Thomas into the cab with a whispered “I love you.”. Thomas watched him from the window, mouthing back those same three words just before he was out of sight, the cab turning out onto the road and driving away. Dylan remained stood in the car park for a moment longer before he shook his head and muttered weak insults at himself, shuffling into his Jeep and heading back to his own apartment, where Tyler was waiting with leftover pizza and beers.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my birthday tomorrow!! Ahh, I'm so excited XD
> 
> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

The following month was torturous for the both of them. Whilst Thomas was in LA, shooting scene after scene almost every day under the scorching late spring heat, Dylan was stuck in New York. 

It was almost as though life had gone back to before they’d met – if you didn’t count the late night phone calls and daily skype chats. Those were the only times that the two would talk. Tyler sometimes popped in to catch up with Thomas too, but mostly it was just the two of them laughing and teasing each other, trying to pretend that there weren’t miles and miles between them.

Every night Dylan would eventually slip into a dreamless sleep with ghosting memories of Thomas’ lips on his.

There was always a silver lining however, as Dylan’s mother used to constantly remind him as a child. With Thomas away, Dylan was being distracted a lot less and spent most of his time in his ‘art studio’ working on his current projects. His style was mostly contemporary; unplanned splashes of colours popping through the plain canvas, shapes contorting around each other to create a visual representation of Dylan’s mind and emotions. 

His most preferred painting completed in the month that Thomas was away is on formed of countless shades of dull pastel colours, greys, white and black. A layer of pre-storm grey covered the canvas, splashes of white and a dash of black thrown into the max. On top of that lay lines of many greys, some similar to fresh cement, others more like stainless steel. The lines twisted and turned, overlapping each other in an unorderly manner. Sharp bolts of precision cut through the grey, watered down pale pink and mint green, sky blue after a thunderstorm, mustard yellow. The colours contrasted the greys, white and black but they belonged there, sprayed dots of grey scattered over them to seal them in place.  
It was Dylan’s least thought out piece of work and yet he loved it. The meaning behind it, the small splashes of colour bringing life to the dull canvas, reached him in a way that others might not understand. 

When Tyler first saw it, he was uncharacteristically speechless. Tyler may not appreciate artwork in the same way as Dylan but he certainly still enjoyed each painting that Dylan created.

The painting was now hung up in the narrow hallway by the front door to Tyler and Dylan’s apartment and every time Dylan came home he smiled.

Dylan had done many more paintings during the month, a handful of which he had managed to sell to people. It didn’t earn him a significant amount of money but it was more than enough to live off.

The buzzer in his and Tyler’s apartment rand through the empty silence, dragging Dylan from his ‘creative zone’ (as he called it), and he huffed a low breath out as he rose to his feet, toes dipping in a dollop of red paint by his left foot. He rolled his eyes, throwing that sock to the ground and padded out of the spare room to let whoever it was up. 

It was probably some delivery guy, or something; Tyler had gone to work almost two hours ago and – with a quick glance at his phone – Dylan noted that it was around that time in the morning that they got deliveries.

Therefore, all set to grab whatever parcel was going to be thrown his way, Dylan didn’t expect to see a jet lagged, tousled blond haired Thomas stood before him after lazily throwing his door open. Dylan gaped, speechless, as his eyes scanned over Thomas – who smiled sheepishly at him.

“Hi,” Thomas said, his caramel-smooth voice washing over Dylan like a waterfall of emotions, and he had to grip onto the door to prevent his knees giving out.

Dylan silently lifted his other hand to Thomas’ face, brushing his knuckles over Thomas’ pale skin in a trance. His fingers unfurling to lace themselves in Thomas’ sweat-matted, dishevelled hair, Dylan wasted no time in pulling the older man forward until their lips met in a stumbled kiss, hot and wet and messy but Dylan didn’t care because Thomas was really here. After all those lonely nights wishing he was curled up safely in Thomas’ arms once again…

“You’re actually here…” Dylan mumbled into Thomas’ mouth, breath ghosting over his boyfriend’s lips like the sweet caress of a lover’s hand. “I can’t believe it.”

Thomas chuckled, resting their foreheads together, “I really am, love.”

Dylan glanced up at Thomas, meeting his eyes through his lashes and the look of pure adoration that Thomas was casting down on him caused him to melt all over again. “Why? How? Aren’t you supposed to be filming for another month?” he rambled, eyes flickering closed as Thomas began soothingly running his hands up and down his arms.

“Yeah,” Thomas nodded, a glum hint in his tone of voice but it was mainly clouded over by the love evident there too. Dylan smiled at that thought. “But we had the weekend off and I couldn’t bear not seeing you for so long, so…here I am, I guess.” he laughed, nose nudging Dylan’s gently.

Dylan sighed happily, resting his head on Thomas’ shoulder with a small smile on his face. 

“I’ve missed you.” Dylan whispered into Thomas’ shirt. Thomas must have still heard him as he squeezed Dylan tighter and planted a kiss to the top of his head.

They stood liked that for a further few minutes, enjoying the peaceful moment together, and Dylan found himself glad that Thomas had been gone for almost a month because it just made him realise how much he really loved this man. The comfortable silence was soon broken however, as Thomas pulled Dylan from his grasp and let of a low chuckle. “Why are you only wearing one sock?”

Dylan blushed, biting his lip as he quickly glanced down at his singular socked foot. “Umm…I may have stepped in some paint when I came to answer the door.” 

Thomas laughed, shaking his head. “You’re an idiot sometimes, honestly.” he muttered lovingly as he dragged his bags into the small apartment.

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.” Dylan called over his shoulder, going into the kitchen to make a drink for the two of them.

Thomas followed closely behind him, wrapping his arms around Dylan’s waist and pulling his back flush to Thomas’ chest – feeling his heart beat through the contact – and nuzzled his face into the crook of Dylan’s neck. “Always.”

The following two days were almost the best days of Dylan’s life; he spent near to every minute with Thomas, the two of them relaxing at Dylan’s apartment (Thomas insisted, saying he didn’t spend enough time here), watching movies and eating pizza and simply being together. Tyler would occasionally make a joking comment at the couple but he too enjoyed seeing Dylan so happy.

That’s why, when the time for Thomas to leave again came around, Dylan found it surprisingly harder to cope with. He knew that it was because he’d already experienced Thomas going away once so he knew what to expect, somehow making the whole experience much worse.

Luckily, less tears were shed as Dylan waved Thomas goodbye, lips red and swollen from kisses shared between the two all morning and a blushing love bite tainting the tanned skin of his neck as a reminder of the blond haired man he called his boyfriend. 

Once Thomas’ car was out of sight, Dylan trudged his way back up to his apartment where he was met with a warm hug from Tyler and a beer. He smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes, and joined Tyler on the couch as they watched the Ellen DeGeneres show.

It’s another couple of days before Dylan finds the motivation to actually do much, and by doing much he means he went down to the local shop to but more milk because he wanted to make a milkshake, and Tyler sighed when he found him sat once again on the couch watching TV, a sulking pout of his face.

Tyler loved his best friends dearly, he really did, and he hated seeing him like this. He had the perfect solution to the situation, too.

With a smirk, Tyler grabbed his laptop and sat up on his bed cross-legged, scrolling through the website he’d found. A few clicks here, a few there, a confirmation email and ta dah – it was all set up.

Walking back into the main room, Dylan still sprawled across the couch with a milkshake in hand, eyes trained on the television screen, Tyler smiled. “Dylan, we need to talk.”  
Dylan sat up, looking over at Tyler with a frown. “What do you mean?”

Tyler shook his head, placing his finger over Dylan’s lips to stop him from asking anymore questions as he flopped down into the space beside Dylan. “Nothing bad, not really, I just want to talk.”

Dylan frowned at him, suspicious, as he muted the TV and looked at Tyler to urge him to continue.

“Okay, so…how do I put this? You’ve become a miserable shit since Thomas left again.” Tyler blurted out, and had it been any other circumstance Dylan may have laughed at the bluntness. “I don’t mean that harshly, it’s just the truth. So, and don’t fight me on this because it’s too late – I’ve made my decision and it’s all planned out now. You’re going to go and surprise Thomas by flying out to meet him, and you’re going to stay with him at the hotel because, honestly, it’s not like it’s technically going to cost any extra to have another person in the same room.”

Dylan was listening intently, but the frown over his eyes was still there. “Tyler, as great of a plan that it, you know I can’t do that! I don’t have enough to fly all the way out there; my paintings only just manage to pay for my share of the rent and groceries an-.” 

Tyler shushed him, waving his hand frantically in front of Dylan until he finally stopped talking. “No, okay, I already know that and because I’m such a great friend,” he smirked in Dylan’s direction, wrapping an arm around his neck and bringing him into a sort-of hug, “and because you love me and I love you too, man – I’ve already bought the tickets so all you have to do is pack your bags and get your ass over there!”

Dylan smiled, eyes glistening over with tears and he sniffed, “Ty, man, you’re the fucking best! How am I supposed to repay you though?”

Tyler laughed, bringing Dylan into a proper hug before fixing him with a mock stern stare. “You ain’t gotta do a thing, other than make sure you marry that sweet blond’s ass.”  
Dylan chuckled watery, mumbling a soft, “I plan to.” before hurriedly jumping up to run to his bedroom, grabbing his dusty old suitcase from under his bed – the rainbow ribbon fading in colour – and throwing clothes haphazardly into it. Tyler was honestly the best friend he could have asked for!

A few hours later, Dylan was hugging Tyler tightly, repeatedly mumbled appreciative thanks into his ear before he pulled away with a smile and laughed, not quite believing the sudden change of events in his life. Tyler just chuckled too, pushing Dylan in the direction of the gates for his flight, muttering how he was going to miss it if he didn’t hurry up. 

With one last quick hug, Dylan was practically running down the long corridor to the plane that was going to bring him back to Thomas – he rolled his eyes at how cheesy that sounded - with an unbreakable smile on his face. As he finally found himself settled into his seat, head resting on the window, he closed his eyes and awaited the start to the long flight – not minding in the slightest because at least he would get to be with Thomas again once he landed.

Today had somehow turned into a perfect day.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

Dylan was nervous, heart hammering in his chest and hands sweaty. He didn’t know why; it’s not like Thomas was going to be annoyed to see him, but he still wasn’t sure if Thomas would be happy either.

He’d arrived at the hotel earlier that day, asking for a spare room key – luckily Tyler had arranged it with the hotel receptionist, letting her know that a Dylan O’Brien would be joining Thomas Brodie-Sangster. After dropping his bags off, taking a look around the posh hotel room, Dylan called a cab and gave the driver directions to where Thomas had mentioned filming was taking place. He’d been excited throughout the whole journey from New York, but now that he was actually stood here he was wondering if this was really a good idea.

Shaking his head at his ridiculous doubts, Dylan decided that he was being stupid. Taking a shaky breath, he slipped into the crowds of crew members and cast, looking around for that familiar head of blond hair.

He finally spotted it, Thomas’ back to him as he spoke animatedly to a woman who looked vaguely recognisable. It took Dylan a moment, but he suddenly realised that the woman was Kaya Scodelario! 

“Okay, you can do this.” Dylan whispered under his breath to himself, hoping that nobody nearby heard him.

Stepping closer to the pair, Dylan’s legs felt weak. But one glance at Thomas, even though Dylan couldn’t see his face, calmed him down. How could it not?

Now that he was closer, almost right behind Thomas, Dylan could hear what the friends were talking about. It sounded like they were discussing Kaya’s son, sharing childhood stories and tips that their parents had shared with them about parenthood. A smile spread over Dylan’s face, hearing the joy in Thomas’ voice.

Closing his eyes and convincing himself to just go for it, Dylan took one last step closer to Thomas and snaked his arms around the blond man’s slim waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. Dylan felt Thomas’s body tense under his touch, Kaya’s eyes falling on him with a questioning stare.

“Surprise, babe.” Dylan spoke, before Kaya could say anything. At the sound of his voice, Thomas relaxed in his hold, his smile stretching even further over his face. 

Up close, Dylan could finally see his man’s face, and he felt his heart clench at the beautiful sight before him; Thomas was tired (he could tell from the light bags under his eyes) but he looked alive, surrounded by the things he loved most. Dylan hoped he counted as one of those things.

“Oh my God,” Thomas whispered, mind trying to process what the hell was currently happening, whilst Kaya remained confused. “What are you doing here?” Turning around to face Dylan properly, Thomas broke into a soft laugh. 

“I’m here to see you, of course.” Dylan stated, as though the answer was so obvious. Seeing Thomas’ overjoyed reaction at his presence calmed his previous nerves and now his usual cool façade of confidence was running through his veins.

“Well, clearly,” Thomas rolled his eyes, a smile on his lips, “But how?”

Dylan launched into a quick explanation of how Tyler had grown fed-up of his depressive attitude and had bought him tickets to fly out here. “My stuff’s already at the hotel.” He finished with a laugh.

Thomas was shocked, overwhelmed and just so in love with the man stood in front of him. Without even thinking about the endless people surrounding them, he picked Dylan up and spun him around in a circle with a laugh before lowering the brunet until their lips were pressed to each other’s. All the tension and stress flowed out of his body in that simple kiss, warmth pressed to his lips and the taste of bitter coffee and honey on his tongue.

“I love you.” He spoke, voice barely above a whisper, into Dylan’s hair as he pulled him into a tight hug. Dylan laughed, leaning his head to press a chaste kiss to his cheek, and Thomas knew he felt the same way.

After that - very public - display of affection, Thomas took Dylan’s hand into his own and introduced him to practically everyone: Kaya, the other cast members, the crew, the director and producer, the make-up and hair crew etc. Most of the women in the make-up and hair department squealed with joy, embracing the two young men in hugs as they congratulated them both. Surprisingly, everyone was accepting of their relationship and promised not to spill it to any press.

Thomas felt like a huge weight had been lifted from his chest and Dylan would be lying if he didn’t feel the same. Just to have these people know about their relationship and to not be bothered by it was amazing.

Later that day, as afternoon turned to night and the moon replaced the sun, Thomas and Dylan were lying in the huge bed in the hotel room, smiles on their faces as they gazed at each other lovingly. They were both on their sides, heads propped up under their arms, the bedsheets pulled up to their waists. Luckily, it was warm in the hotel so they didn’t mind their bare chests being out from under the covers. 

Dylan was tracing small circles over Thomas’ chest, smiling to himself as he thought about how barely 24 hours ago he had been miserably lying alone watching TV. He made a mental note to buy Tyler something amazing before returning home.

“What’s on your mind?” Thomas questioned, shuffling closer so that Dylan could feel his words ghosting over his skin.

Dylan shook his head, drawing his hand from Thomas’ chest and placing it over the blond’s cheek. “Nothing, I was just thinking how lucky I am to have such amazing people in my life.”

Thomas smiled, blushing under Dylan’s touch, and leant forward to brush his lips smoothly over Dylan’s in a warm, dry kiss. Dylan tongue swiped over his lower lip once Thomas pulled away, eyes fluttering closed. Thomas followed suit and soon the two were drifting peacefully into a deep sleep, Thomas with his arm loosely wrapped over Dylan’s waist to hold him closer and Dylan with his head slowly falling into Thomas’ chest.

The rest of their stay was perfect; Thomas enjoyed waking up in Dylan’s arms every morning and falling asleep by his side too, getting to spend his days filming and his evenings visiting cute restaurants and tourist attractions with Dylan. Dylan somehow landed a small job helping out on set. He figured that Thomas must’ve said something about his artwork because the day after he arrived, as he followed Thomas on set and started up a conversation with some kid that was organising the props for the next scene, the director had hollered him over to chat. 

Soon enough, Dylan was stuck in with painting and moving and rearranging the set of each scene. He was in his element and it was amazing to have something fun to do whilst Thomas was busy (and, hey, he was getting paid too)!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my God, so this is kind of the official last chapter?? The next one is more like an epilogue but also an end to the story - it's the same one-shot that I wrote like years ago that I based this whole story off of.
> 
> Thank you all for reading this fic! I love you all :)
> 
> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

Almost one month later, Thomas and Dylan arrived back in New York – exhausted but smiling nonetheless. Dylan can’t recall a month in which he’d truly enjoyed every day in the way that he had whilst helping out on set and sharing shy kissed with Thomas at every chance they got. 

After piling into Thomas’ apartment, which felt cold and empty from having no occupants in over two months, the couple barely bothered to unpack before falling asleep on Thomas’ bed – a tangle of limbs and half-removed clothes. Four hours later, they were woken up by the front door’s buzzer and Tyler’s voice shouting to let him in. 

Thomas groaned, rolling onto his stomach and pushing his face into the pillow beneath him in an attempt to block to bright morning sun that shone through the room’s only window. “You go.” Thomas said, the pillow muffling his voice, and he shoved Dylan lightly in the ribs with his elbow.

Dylan grunted, swatting Thomas’ arm away. “Why me?”

Thomas didn’t even bother responding, he just slid further under the duvet until it covered his head. Dylan sighed but laughed quietly as he slipped out from the warmth of the bed and padded bare-foot out of the bedroom. Letting Tyler through the front doors, Dylan made sure the apartment door was unlocked before heading into the large kitchen and grabbing three mugs. 

As the kettle boiled, Dylan prepared three drinks – tea for Thomas, black coffee for himself and a milky coffee for Tyler. By the time the kettle had settled down, Dylan pouring the hot water into the three mugs with care, Tyler had walked into the apartment.

There was the sound of something being dumped on the counter beside him, followed by the delicious smell of bacon and cheese, and Dylan felt his stomach rumble. “Please, for the love of God, tell me you brought us food!” he said, already rummaging his hand through the brown paper bag on the counter.

Tyler rolled his eyes with a smile, “Well hello to you, too.” He said as Dylan took a large bite into one of the three breakfast wraps that he’d just picked up.

“ello.” Dylan spoke, his mouth still full. He moaned into the wrap before placing it back down and engulfing Tyler in a hug. “Missed you, man.” 

Tyler patted Dylan’s back before the pulled apart and he picked up the drink he assumed was for him, taking a long sip. He opened his mouth the speak when he was interrupted by Thomas walking into the room – unruly blond hair stuck up messily, eyes still adjusting to the light and voice heavy with sleep as he said, “Hey, Tyler. Awe, man, is this tea mine?”

Dylan nodded, passing Thomas the mug, as Tyler greeted Thomas back. “There’s food too.” Dylan said, gesturing to the breakfast wraps.

“Mmm,” Thomas said, sipping down his tea, “thanks babe.” he pressed a warm kiss to Dylan’s mouth and Dylan smiled into the innocent gesture, tongue darting out to catch a taste of the sweet tea on Thomas’ lips before they separated.

“You guys make me sick!” Tyler joked, unwrapping his food. Dylan just smirked, pulling Thomas to his side and snaking his arm around his waist. “So, did people find out about you guys? I haven’t heard anything mentioned online, as of yet.” 

Dylan shook his head, smiling, “Pretty much everyone that was there found out but they all promised not to mention anything to anyone else since it’s kind of our choice when and how we announce it.”

“But are you going to announce it?”

Thomas looked down at Dylan, noticing the hopeful look in his eyes as he met Thomas’ questioning gaze. “Yeah, I think we will.” Thomas said and his heart swooned at the smile the spread over Dylan’s face, “I mean, there’s nothing planned or anything but if it ever comes up then I guess that’s when it’ll be announced?”

Dylan’s nod showed his approval and seemed to lower the pressure Thomas felt in letting everyone know he was taken – and gay, for that matter of fact. Not that he was afraid to say it, but he was still nervous. Hopefully, if everyone’s reactions on set were anything to go by, then there wouldn’t be much of a fuss made about it.

It was another couple of months until interviews began once again for Thomas. Dylan had been living between apartments throughout that time, his stuff spread between the two to make things easier. Thomas had honestly never felt more at home than when Dylan was with him, sleeping in the same bed, waking up together, cooking breakfast and watching pointless TV shows.

Most of the interviews went as normal; be asked a question about the character and answer it, explain main plot points to the film without revealing anything major, talk about future plans in his career. So far, any relationship that he may or may not be in hadn’t been mentioned.

In the interviews with most of the main cast present, where an audience would sit amongst benches behind the cameras and often got to ask questions for Thomas and the others to answer, Dylan would always be sat watching with a smile on his face. Luckily, he wasn’t famous so the rest of the audience wouldn’t look twice at him as he silently encouraged his boyfriend from afar.

There were multiple occasions where Thomas’ focus would shift to scanning over the sea of faces until his eyes fell on Dylan’s beautiful face, smiling at the small thumbs up his boyfriend would give him from the shadows of the crowd.

Obviously, after each of those interviews, Dylan would join Thomas in his dressing room backstage for a not-so-innocent make-out session.

On one particular afternoon, as Thomas led Dylan through the back exit towards where the car park was and Dylan’s blue Jeep sat waiting, Thomas was feeling more nervous than usual. Not that Dylan could really sense it, his red-kissed lips curled up into a carefree smile as he watched the bright sun in the sky above.

Thomas took the car keys from Dylan’s back pocket, leaving a lingering kiss on his cheek and smiling at the rough stubble the met his lips. Dylan didn’t question it, simply letting himself into the passenger side and waiting for Thomas to get settled in and start up the engine.

“So, my place or yours?” Dylan asked, leaning back in the seat.

Thomas coughed awkwardly, seeming to avoid Dylan’s gaze. “Umm, actually I was thinking we could go somewhere else first.”

Dylan shrugged, smiling out of the window as Thomas started driving down the road. He switched on the old radio, tapping his fingers on the dashboard in time to the bass of the song and humming lowly to himself.

Miraculously, Dylan’s calm aura eased Thomas’ nerves and he found himself humming along to the song with Dylan.

Within half an hour, they were pulling into the side of a very familiar road, Thomas turning the radio off before removing the keys and handing them to Dylan. He slipped out of the vehicle, going round to the other side and opening the passenger door to let Dylan out.

“What are we doing here?” Dylan asked, looking at the dainty coffee shop in front of them and blindly taking Thomas’ outstretched hand, fingers lacing together.

“I thought we could get a coffee.” Thomas said nonchalantly and Dylan shrugged, trying not to smile so much at the fact that Thomas still remembered this place from their first date.

When they entered the small building, Thomas told Dylan to grab a table for two whilst he ordered the drinks. He ordered the peppermint mocha for Dylan, remembering him once saying how he needed to try that before he died, and the mango and strawberry tea for himself. Once the drinks were made, he picked them up and carried them over to the little table that Dylan was sat at near the back of the coffee shop. 

Upon seeing Thomas, Dylan put his phone down on the table and took the drinks from Thomas’ hand to put down whilst Thomas’ sat opposite him. Thomas pushed the peppermint mocha towards Dylan, who smiled and took a cautious sip of the hot drink, eyes rolling back in delight as the sweet chocolatey taste hit his tongue. “Oh my God, that’s good!”

Thomas leant forward, stealing a sip of the drink and hummed in agreement; it was good. Leaning back into his own seat, tongue swiping over his bottom lip to catch the stray drip of mocha (smirking as Dylan’s eyes followed the simple movement), Thomas cupped his flavoured tea and held it to his chest.

“So,” he began, hands tightening around the mug, “I actually have something for you.” Dylan’s eyebrow raised, head tilting in that adorable way that it does when he’s confused. “I, umm…fuck wait I have it in my pocket.” 

Fumbling to put his mug down and reach into his jacket pocket, Thomas’ face is flushed and he tries to take a second to just breathe. He was overreacting.

He finally pulls his hand back, opening it palm-up on the table. Dylan’s eyes fall to his outstretched hand and as they catch the silver chain and key attached to it, his hands fly up to cover his mouth. 

“I wanted to give you this, officially.” Thomas said, trying to not stumble over his words. “I mean, you pretty much live at mine most of the time anyway but I wanted to invite you to move in with me – for real.” He adds at the end, adding emphasise on the last to words.

Dylan shakes his head, his hands lowering to carefully pick up the chain from Thomas’ palm. He’s biting down on his bottom lip to stop from smiling too much.

“Is it okay?” Thomas asks.

“It’s perfect.” Dylan smiles, gripping the chain tightly as Thomas leans across the table to press their lips together – the seal of their smiles confirming everything. 


	23. (epilogue)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's one change in this compared to the original one-shot written two years ago and it honestly made me cry from feels. How does that even work?! I'm the one who wrote this bloody fic!!
> 
> Happy reading, snowflakes <3

“Am I right in saying that the role of this character was something of a new experience to you?” the woman asked, flicking a strand of fiery, red hair away from her eyes as she spoke to Thomas.

Thomas nodded, taking a quick sip of water before answering the question. The interview continued on like this – every interview was the same really; answer the same questions and hint at parts of whichever movie it is that you’re being interviewed about. By now, Thomas had it down to a T. 

Everything was running smoothly – as usual – until a photo appeared on the screen behind Thomas and the interviewer. As Thomas looked over the picture, his heart skipped; it was of him and his boyfriend –Dylan – when they’d gone out on Saturday. They hadn’t realised that people had actually spotted them. 

“So, I’ve been told by many people to ask you about this very attractive man.” The woman spoke, putting emphasis on the word ‘attractive’. 

At first, Thomas was speechless. The media had no idea that Thomas was gay, let alone that he had a long-term boyfriend! Luckily, Dylan wasn’t a well-known celebrity; they’d actually met in a cute coffee shop that Kaya had taken Thomas to the other year. And as far as Thomas was aware, nobody actually knew Dylan. 

Looking over the picture again, Thomas thought up what to say. The picture was of the two walking down the street together in casual attire (jeans and a shirt), both holding cups of coffee as Thomas laughed at something Dylan had said.

“Well . . . care to enlighten us on who this gorgeous guy is?” the woman asked for the second time, irritating Thomas slightly.

There was a brief moment of silence as Thomas thought for a moment, pushing down his jealousy. He hated how the interviewer was openly checking Dylan out – not aware that he was actually sat somewhere in the midst of the audience, all of whom awaiting his response. 

Taking a deep breath and relaxing, Thomas looked over at the picture one last time, “Oh, Dylan?” he questioned casually. He stretched as he did so, his right arm moving behind his head. Then, without breaking from his calm tone, he moved his gaze to meet the woman’s. “Yeah, he’s mine.” 

A light blush crept onto the woman’s face and it was obvious that she had many questions to ask him about the current subject, but with a quick look to her manager she cleared her throat and moved on to the next topic. Thomas let out a subtle breath of air, his eyes scanning the crowd below as he looked for Dylan. Unfortunately, it was too dark to spot him, but the knowledge that his boyfriend was sat somewhere nearby helped Thomas to calm down.

From then on, the interview carried on as usual and Thomas slowly grew comfortable again. Eventually, it ended. 

Thanking the interviewer for having him, Thomas slowly began descending the stairs that lead off of the stage and towards the audience. By now, the crowd of people had begun to disperse. Thomas didn’t even have to look to find Dylan. The younger man stood a few rows up, a smug look on his face as their eyes met. Thomas laughed quietly to himself, taking the steps in two as he headed towards his boyfriend.

He finally stood in front of Dylan, the smug look never leaving his boyfriend’s face. 

“Possessive much?” Dylan laughed, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth.

“Hey, not fair! She was totally into you.” Thomas insisted, the two of them bursting into quiet laughter. Neither of them decided to mention the fact that Thomas had just revealed their relationship to the world. They’d deal with that later.

As they walked down the stairs, heading to Thomas’ changing room, their hands automatically found each other and their fingers laced together.

“You were so jealous!” Dylan laughed once again still not dropping the subject. To Dylan, it was still surreal that somebody – Thomas, of all people – actually liked him.

“Oh my God, I was not!” Thomas protested, not meeting Dylan’s knowing look. As they reached the room that he’d left his stuff, he turned to face Dylan, opening the door from behind. The look that Dylan was giving him showed how Dylan wasn’t fooled. He never was. “Okay, maybe I was a little jealous.” Thomas admitted, stepping backwards and dragging Dylan after him.

Dylan smirked, flopping down on the soft, leather sofa. “I knew it!” he shouted, though not too loudly. They didn’t need anyone barging in on them.

Thomas shook his head at his boyfriend’s antics, moving to tower over him. “You’re such an idiot.” Thomas muttered, leaning down to capture Dylan’s chapped lips with his own. Dylan was shocked at first but soon recovered, his lips moving slowly against Thomas’.

“You love me really.” They broke the kiss, Thomas staring into Dylan’s dark brown eyes before replying.

“Yes, yes I do.” And then Dylan pushed himself up, his lips pressing back onto Thomas’ in a chaste kiss. As Dylan fell back down, he grabbed Thomas’ shirt, pulling the older man on top of him without breaking the kiss.

The kiss lasted a few minutes until there was a knock on the door and a voice calling to say that Thomas would need to leave soon. Both men’s lips were slightly red and their eyes were clouded with a mixture of love and lust as they rose from the sofa.

Without exchanging any words, Thomas grabbed hold of Dylan’s slightly clammy hand, pulling the younger man behind him as he walked over to the door. Dylan followed, not taking his hand back.

“Where are we going now?” he asked the blond in front of him.

There wasn’t a reply for a few seconds as Thomas opened the door and turned to face Dylan. But when he finally spoke, a surge of butterflies rushed through Dylan’s stomach.  
“Our place.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to everyone that's made it this far! I love you all, you amazing human beans <3
> 
> Also, what are the chances that I'd finish this story on my 18th birthday? I think that's pretty awesome, ngl. So happy friggin' birthday to me, yay!!

**Author's Note:**

> If you want some trashy fandom content, follow me @a-beautiful-struggle-of-life on Tumblr...be warned, I have no theme over there.
> 
> Also, check out my Wattpad (Hope-and-Believe) for more Newtmas/Dylmas content!
> 
> Love you guys x


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